Star Trek TNG Souvenirs A Felicity Fanfic
by Commander Cody CC-2224
Summary: Felicity and her friends and siblings are abducted by highly advanced space aliens, only to end up on the U.S.S. Enterprise! But behind this adventurious visit lies an ever-present galactic threat not only to the Enterprise, but to the colonial children.
1. Chapter 1

_**Star Trek: The Next Generation – Souvenirs**_

**Written By:**_** Commander Cody CC-2224**_

Brief notes:

I do not own _Star Trek: The Next Generation_ series, or _American Girl_. This fanfic is written for the purposes of serious, dramatic entertainment, as I just had the idea of seeing colonial children in the 24th century. After all, how often do you get to see or read something like this?

This chapter is one of many chapters of the story to come, under the title _"Star Trek: The Next Generation – Souvenirs" (or "Felicity Encounters the Enterprise")_. This story is intended to be a Star Trek TNG fanfic and an American Girl fanfic morphed into one.

The story takes place at Stardate 48766.6 (after Stardate 47988.1, when Picard encountered the alternate _Enterprise_). It starts out with the U.S.S Enterprise (NCC-1701-D) making its way back to the Alpha Quadrant at maximum warp. On the way Captain Jean-Luc Picard and his crew encounter a stray vessel of unknown origin carrying 5 passengers belonging to America's colonial period (I won't spoil the details). After this chapter another chapter will arrive that discusses the names of these passengers and how they were taken from their original timeline.

In the next chapter Felicity's story will take place around the month of April of 1776 A.D., after the events in the book _Changes for Felicity_, though this plot will be discussed in the next chapter (and it will take a while to come up with it). For the most part I have decided to let the story's surroundings retain consistency with the _Felicity's Story Collection II_, as well as the _Felicity: An American Girl Adventure_ movie. For example, you will notice that Felicity's best friend Elizabeth Cole is described with blond hair, rather than brown (or black, if I so accurately recall). This is because in 2003 A.D. (real history), Felicity's Story Collection book was revised such that the illustrations and text refer to Elizabeth having blond hair, thus retiring the original Story Collection with Elizabeth having brown or black hair (c.f. _Complete Guide to American Girl Doll Collecting_). So for those who are used to seeing Elizabeth in brown or black hair, please don't feel too disappointed.

So sit back and enjoy the movie-like fanfic. I anticipate that after you read this chapter your mind is going to start racing as to who the characters are and how they were taken from their timeline. As I said, this chapter will take a while to develop, but hang in there.

* * *

CHAPTER 1

_U.S.S. Enterprise_ (NCC-1701-D)

Stardate 48766.1 - Viridian Sector

April 11, 2370 A.D.

_Captain's Log: Stardate 48766.6. Nearly ten years after exploring the galaxy we are now heading back to the Alpha Quadrant, and to Earth._

The _U.S.S. Enterprise-D_ was throttling at maximum warp. She was a Galaxy Class starship, one of the largest vessels in Starfleet. Over the dorsal area of the saucer section gleamed the letters that comprised of her identification: NCC-1701-D.

The bridge was located on the central peak of the saucer section. The interior of the bridge looked extra spiffy, and it was buzzing with all sorts of activity, with the guys in yellow shirts monitoring the screens, with the two helm personnel focusing on the screen and enjoying an occasional pep talk with each other, and with the starship captain locked in incessant discussion with this and that situation with his first officer and tactical officer. For the time being, the ship's counselor was seated at the seat next to the right side of the captain's chair.

Near the front of the bridge, Chief Miles O'Brien, one of the helmsmen situated at the port console, was staring nearly aimlessly at the screen, with the stars and white dash lines zipping past. Next to him Lt. Commander Data, Picard's favorite android, on the starboard console, who was always energetic and alert, whether or not he was on duty. He, along with O'Brien, was incessantly busy as a bee.

Captain Jean-Luc Picard was locked in discussion with his First Office William Riker and his Tactical Officer Worf about the situation of getting home. For nearly ten years Picard and his crew explored the galaxy, covering vast areas of the Alpha, Beta, and Gamma Quadrants. After his encounter with the Q entity and the rendezvous with a starship similar to the one he was commanding that came from an era forward in time, Picard formally announced to the crew that they were heading back to the Alpha Quadrant, and back to Starfleet. He was itching to get home that at times he would make a fairly regular inquiry to one of the helmsmen about the ETA (Estimated Time of Arrival) to Earth. Data, as usual would be the first to answer, often leaving his helms-mate with a puzzled look.

"How long until we reach earth?" inquired Picard.

"Approximately seventy-five hours and thirty-eight minutes, sir," was Data's usual reply, except the ETA stats would be altered as time went by.

Picard then turned to Worf. "How go the warp engines, Worf?"

"The engines are at one hundred percent peak efficiency, sir. If you wish, I can ask Commander LaForge to account for the engine status." Commander LaForge was the ship's Chief Engineer, who spent most of his time monitoring the vessel's engine room and coordinated various scientific operations in the Engineering section.

"Very well," was Picard's usual reply. Then, for want of something better to do, he announced in a moderate tone of voice, "I'll be taking my tea in the Ready Room. Would you like to join me, Counselor?"

Counselor Deanna Troi, who for most of the time was seated in a ladylike fashion on her usual seat at the left hand side of the captain's chair, perked her head up and looked at Picard. "Of course, Captain," she replied with her usual charming smile. Counselor Troi was Picard's favorite advisor, who was half-human, half-Betazoid. Given her Betazoid traits, she had the capability of keenly detecting emotions in people, as well as sense a variety of disturbances, whether mild or strong. She got up from her seat daintily and followed Picard to the captain's Ready Room.

Troi was standing near the Ready Room entrance as Picard sauntered to his personal replicator.

"Tea. Earl Gray. Hot. Two cups," he requested promptly. Two sets of a white cup and saucer materialized in the replicator's niche.

"Tea as well, Counselor?" Picard asked genially.

"Yes, thank you," replied Troi.

"Cream and sugar?"

"Yes, please."

"I don't particularly sweeten my tea," Picard muttered slightly as he reached languorously in his desk drawer for a pack of cream and sugar and placed them on Troi's teacup and saucer, in case Troi changed her mind. Both of them took their usual seat area in the visitor's Ready Room seat. Picard usually struck up conversations during that time, but his itching to go home was beyond mere words. Pretty much all he could think of talking about was getting back to Earth and discuss the burgeoning relationship affair between Troi and Riker.

"This calls for celebration," declared Picard in a brisk manner.

"I'll say," replied Troi in a matter-of-fact way.

"So, after nearly ten years of exploring the Alpha, Beta, and Gamma Quadrants, we finally get to go home. Back to earth."

"I'll have to admit, it's a relief," replied Troi. "After nearly ten years, you say, of being cooped up on the _Enterprise_ everyone will get to breath the real fresh air when we step back on familiar ground."

"But we have the holographic rooms for that purpose. Doesn't that suit everyone for the time being?"

"I suppose, but it'll still not be the same thing with actually stepping outside and enjoying the atmosphere of the earth."

"Hmm."

There was a brief moment of uninterrupted silence, perhaps on the order thirty seconds, wherein Picard was the first to resume his conversation with Troi on another subject matter.

"You and Commander Riker seem to be in love with each other, if you don't mind me putting it bluntly," said Picard, trying to sound diplomatic, at best. Most of the time he had in himself the penchant to mince words. "What do you and Riker actually do during your spare time?"

Troi giggled slightly at the thought of this statement. "At the moment, we go to the holodeck and traverse across the 18th century English countryside. And at times, we would change the holodeck surroundings to a luxurious stay at the Hilton Hotel." Troi was beginning to feel hesitant to continue this discussion.

"I see," replied Picard. "Well, I suppose there must be some details that are too embarrassing to divulge." Picard got up from the seat and placed the teacup on his desk. "I'll sure be looking forward to enjoying a generous amount of leave-taking back on earth."

"Perhaps you'll get to visit the place of your childhood, back in France?" inquired Troi.

"LaBarre?"

"Mm-hmm. And actually trying to relive them."

Picard chuckled slightly. "Counselor, really, I'm afraid I've outgrown childish things."

"But it wouldn't hurt to try," Troi reassured.

"I suppose not."

Seconds later an audible beep was generated from Picard's personal computer. Immediately Picard approached it promptly and gave a slight glance at the LCD. The computer indicated an incoming transmission from Starfleet Headquarters. He switched on the screen.

Immediately the face of Vice-Admiral Alynna Nechayev was on display, crystal clear. There was no static interference. Nechayev had slight middle-age features and blond hair.

Nechayev was the first to send greetings. "Good day, Captain," she announced with gusto.

"Admiral!" Picard exclaimed slightly. He was considerably surprised.

Nechayev was itching to get to her point. "We received the update that you're heading back to the Alpha Quadrant."

"Yes. We're making our heading back to Earth."

"You mean to say that you're through exploring the galaxy?"

"For the most part."

"There's something I need to inform you about. The Temporal Investigators informed me of a slight change in America's colonial history. The message was flagged 'Priority One'. I was going to ask you to investigate the matter, but since you are about forty-eight hours away from the Alpha Quadrant, I'm going to suggest being on the lookout for any space vessels that you encounter on the way."

"Are these temporal changes minor?" Picard queried seriously, hoping he would receive a no for an answer.

"I shouldn't worry too much about it, Captain," Nechayev reassured with a light but fairly forced smile. "I think it's just a slight change in the colonial historical records, specifically the ones belonging to Colonial Williamsburg. We're fortunate that there's no indication of tampering with the history of the most influential people of that era."

"Does the Temporal Bureau have the original document files?"

"I should strongly think so. Don't worry, Captain, they have the technology to track any changes in the timeline. They'll be transmitting them to me in about 10 minutes; so I'll be uploading them to your computer within the hour."

"I'll check now and then."

"Very well. For the time being, I suggest being on the lookout for any space vessels you encounter on the way."

"Very well. Picard out."

Nechayev's face disappeared, followed by the communiqué's ID tag. Picard switched off his personal computer.

"Another bloody temporal affair to deal with. First, the _Enterprise C_, then the _Enterprise_ of the alternate universe, thanks to Q." Since his encounter with the _Enterprise C_ from a temporal rift, his encounter with America's 19th century literary author Samuel Langhorne Clemens passing through a temporal portal on Devidia II, as his interesting encounter with the _Enterprise_ of the alternate future that the Q entity let him experience, the one equipped with three nacelles instead of two, Picard dearly wished that this affair regarding another interference in the timeline would be his last, because he didn't particularly like having to deal with temporal affairs. However, the idea having a face-to-face encounter with some individuals from America's colonial era would prove to be fascinating, so he was determined to give this assignment a try with partial gusto.

"I'll have to inform the bridge," Picard told Troi. "Um, if you want, you can stay in the Ready Room for a while." Troi nodded, and Picard left the Ready Room.

Picard paced in a hurry to Riker and Worf, who were at the monitoring station on the bridge. "What's up Captain," inquired Riker.

"I've received a message from Starfleet Headquarters that there's been a slight change in America's 18th century colonial history."

"Really?" Riker asked incredulously. "I'd better check my Britannica."

"I'm ordering the bridge to be on the lookout for any spacecraft that we encounter."

"Captain, what do the starships have to do with all of these…historical changes?"

"I don't know. Perhaps the admiral thinks that some people are being taken out of their original time."

"Temporal kidnapping?"

"Again, a possibility. Vice-Admiral Nechayev will send me the files on the timeline changes. Have the bridge be on the lookout for any starships encountered. I'll be in the Ready Room."

"We're at maximum warp, Captain. However, we can adjust our long-range sensors to pick up incoming craft. I'll let you know."

"Thanks, Number One." Picard promptly left the bridge and stepped back into the Ready Room.

Picard sat down and checked his personal computer. A message file was flagged on his desktop area. Picard opened the file and the file appeared in a prompt fashion. Strangely enough, it pertained to a detailed 1776 census of the inhabitants of Colonial Williamsburg. Picard clicked the "Names" link, and two charts containing a long list of the names of those who were in Colonial Williamsburg around the year 1776 were displayed.

The file displayed two charts; one side indicated the original, the other indicated the altered. Picard mulled over the charts as he attempted to make mental comparisons on the timeline. Individuals who originally were present in the timeline have disappeared, as indicated by a red highlight on the list's altered side.

Picard glanced closer. The altered side indicated five people who were originally existent in the time frame that disappeared, for no apparent reason, from Picard's point of view. He read the names, hoping it wasn't some individual who played a major role in the American War for Independence, such as one of America's Founding Fathers. To his relief, it wasn't. Rather, the list showed five different names that were highlighted in red to indicate their disappearance from the timeline. Their names registered as Felicity Merriman, Nan Merriman, William Merriman, Benjamin Davidson, and Elizabeth Cole. Picard was partially relieved by the fact that these weren't individuals who played a major role in the American War for Independence; however, he was slightly disturbed by their disappearance because even minor changes in the historical timeline could seriously alter events that were to occur in American history during and after the War. He was aware of the fact that even minor people and events could make a significant impact on history itself. So Picard was half-determined to investigate the matter. But what could he do, given that the _Enterprise_ hadn't spotted any starships yet? Picard opened the front desk drawer, pulled out a tricorder, attached it to his personal computer, and downloaded the files. Then he waited for the opportunity as he detached the tricorder from the computer.

* * *

After nearly half an hour of deep personal meditation in the captain's Ready Room, Picard heard a fairly loud "beep!" emitting from his combadge.

"Riker to Picard." It was Riker's voice.

"Go ahead, Number One," Picard promptly replied.

"Long range sensors have picked up a vessel bearing 114 mark 119."

"On my way."

Picard grabbed the tricorder and immediately left the Ready Room where he entered the bridge.

"How close are we to the vessel?" inquired Picard, as he approached the captain's chair.

"We're about two minutes twenty-five seconds away from it," replied Data.

"Drop out of warp. Switch to full impulse."

"Yes, sir."

The _Enterprise_ dropped out of warp and moved at full impulse power.

"Status, Data?"

"We are now approximately ten thousand kilometers away from the vessel. We should be approaching it in approximately ninety seconds."

"Very well. Continue at present course and speed until we reach the vessel."

Nearly thirty seconds later a tiny floating speck showed up on the view screen."

"I see something, Captain," informed O'Brien. It was a while since O'Brien ever announced anything of any significance.

"Magnify," commanded Picard.

The view screen magnified the speck using fancy digital effects. Sure enough, it was a vessel, and it was drifting aimlessly towards the _Enterprise_.

"The vessel appears to be drifting aimlessly towards us," said Data.

"Status?" inquired Picard.

"Hull integrity is one hundred percent intact. Engines register as fully functional."

"Life signs?"

"Positive, sir. Sensors indicate a total of five passengers on board with active life signs."

"Five passengers?"

"That is correct, sir."

"Get a lock on that vessel. Don't let it drift away from us."

"You've got it, sir."

Picard went to the monitoring station on the bridge, attached the tricorder to one of the ports, and downloaded the file from the Temporal Bureau. He then called for Riker as he opened the file.

The file was opened by the time Riker approached the area where Picard was standing on the monitoring station.

"A file from the Temporal Bureau?" asked Riker incredulously.

"Precisely," replied Picard, as he scrolled to the highlighted part on the altered section of the Colonial Williamsburg census.

"See the highlighted names? This chart mentions five individuals taken from the 1776 timeline."

Riker, with a skeptical look on his face, peered closely to take a look at the highlighted names.

"Felicity Merriman, Nan Merriman, William Merriman, Benjamin Davidson, and Elizabeth Cole?" Riker muttered. "You sure those are not individuals who played major roles in the American War for Independence?"

"I should hope not. Unless I have details about these individuals, I cannot be too sure. This census only registers the names of the people who inhabited Colonial Williamsburg around the year of 1776."

"I'm dying to know how they were taken."

"What? The census records?"

"No, _them_. The people whose names are highlighted in red." Riker muttered, "How and why would they be taken from their timeline?"

"If Vice-Admiral Nechayev wanted us to be on the lookout for starships because of this predicament, I think she would want us to investigate whatever starship we encounter," informed Riker.

"Make it so. Ask Dr. Crusher to accompany you in case the passengers are wanting in medical attention, as well as Commander La Forge, in case you experience technical difficulties evacuating the passengers off the vessel." Dr. Beverly Crusher was the ship's chief medical doctor.

"Yes, sir. Data, you're with me." Both Riker and Data left the bridge and stepped into the turbolift.

* * *

On board the stray space vessel…

The interior of the vessel was dimly lighted, and there were red lights across the wall panels blinking steadily. Two individuals lay dead near the helm; one was a humanoid-looking species, and the other had mechanical parts. Five people materialized on board: Riker, Data, La Forge, and Dr. Crusher. Each of them were armed with banana-shaped hand-held phasers (Phaser Type 2) and scanning the surroundings with their tricorders. La Forge was carrying a black satchel filled with tools.

"I thought there were five life signs" remarked Riker. "Why do we see two dead people?"

"One is Borg, the other is of unknown origin," said Dr. Crusher. "They are dead, then."

"If one of these individuals are Borg, then what would the Borg be doing here?" inquired Riker. "Geordi, see if you can find the ship's sensor logs."

"Right away, sir." La Forge immediately set to work.

"Doctor, let's find the life forms."

"As soon as I've briefly examined the cadavers, Will."

"This ship shouldn't be too big. You mind if Data and I look around?"

"Not at all."

As Riker and Data advanced to the rear, they came across a section in the vessel's aft cargo hold. Popping into the hold, they beheld five partly cloudy cylindrical glass tubes that each held a person inside. All of them were completely sealed and they were stacked neatly in a single row, the ends strapped to each other and bolted to the floor. Riker and Data surveyed each one of them with a profound sense of awe and used his tricorder to glean whatever information they could yield from inside the tubes. Each of the tubes had no external labeling, nor did the individuals inside, who were in a state of complete torpor, with their bodies positioned like a deceased person properly positioned in a coffin box.

"It appears that these life-forms are sealed in some kind of cryo-tube," remarked Data.

"I'll be damned," replied Riker, with a look of slight astonishment.

Approaching the first tube, Riker's tricorder indicated a young man of seventeen years of age. His clothing seemed to originate from the colonial era, for it was the standard style of the 18th century. His skin was nearly pale, and his light-brown hair was positioned fairly well.

The second tube registered a young girl at age eleven. She was wearing a pale yellow cream-colored colonial gown. Her feet stuck out of the dress, which was covered with the slightly high-heeled buckle shoes pertaining to the colonial era. Her head was covered with a mobcap, with the remaining of her natural ginger red hair being exposed, and her skin was slightly pale, like a Caucasian.

The third life form in the tube was another young Caucasian girl with blond hair that registered at age eleven, the same age as the red-headed girl. The gown she was wearing was of a more finer material than the other girl, and was a silky light blue. Her hair was partially covered with a mobcap.

The fourth tube contained a little Caucasian girl registered at age eight. Her auburn ginger hair was partially covered with a lace mobcap, as if she was stuffed into the tube in a hurry. She was wearing a pale goldenrod colonial gown overlapping with olive-green vertical stripes. The fifth tube contained a little Caucasian boy at age 5, with a hair color similar to that of the red-headed girl. His clothing was colonial style, with a flat black overvest worn over his plain white shift.

Riker could not believe his eyes. The highlighted names of the Colonial Williamsburg census records swam in his head. As far as he could remember, three were girls' names and two were boys' names. He was anxious to make a conclusion that these could possibly be the individuals whose names were listed on the Temporal Bureau's list of the disappeared. But there was no way to be sure that was the case unless he asked what their names were.

Meanwhile Dr. Crusher had found out that the alien life-form was partially assimilated into a Borg. There were no signs of lacerations or phaser or disruptor beam burns across the body. Both of the cadavers were 100 percent intact on the exterior. _But how did they die?_ she wondered.

"Geordi, have you retrieved the sensor logs yet?" Dr. Crusher asked Commander La Forge.

"Almost finished here, Doc," replied La Forge. A few seconds later La Forge announced, "There. We have them."

"Let's see."

On one of the panel screens on the starboard area of the shuttlecraft, the video was playing. The logs showed a brief tussle between the two life forms. One was Borg, the other was a humanoid-like alien. The struggle was brief, with the result being that by the looks of it the Borg managed to assimilate his victim by protruding his needles and made physical contact in the neck area. The victim was writhing in agony as the veins of his skin turned into an eerie black, and his entire skin color a darkish purple. Two seconds later a thick cloud of gas was released into the confines of the shuttlecraft. The Borg suffocated and died as a result.

Both La Forge and Dr. Crusher were mesmerized in the horror film when Riker stepped back into the passenger area. "Doctor, I think we found our life-forms," he announced.

"Where are they?" asked Dr. Crusher automatically.

"They're located in the cargo bay. Come on."

Riker, Crusher, and La Forge hurried to the cargo hold. They found Data busying himself with clicking buttons on his tricorder. Each of them gave a slightly long glance at each of the tubes.

"My God," remarked Dr. Crusher.

* * *

A/N (1): Here are a few things I wish to note, in case you were wondering about some details pertaining to the story:

- Picard's encounter with the _Enterprise C_ (U.S.S. Enterprise, NCC-1701-C) was derived from the ST-TNG episode _Yesterday's Enterprise_.

- Picard's encounter with Samuel Langhorne Clemens was derived from the ST-TNG episode _Time's Arrow, Parts I and II._

- Picard's encounter with the starship _Enterprise_ shown with 3 warp nacelles from an alternate future was derived from the ST-TNG episode _All Good Things…._

A/N (2): For the time being I hold exact date of this chapter's occurrence in question. Any suggestions on Starfleet's historical accuracy will be greatly appreciated.

A/N (3): I attempted to elaborate on Data's characteristic of pointing out stats in an exact fashion ("We are approximately 90 seconds away from the vessel"). I tried to keep the stats fairly mathematically accurate, but any suggestions on accuracy will be greatly appreciated.

A/N (4): The overall descriptions of the colonial clothes were largely based from the _Felicity: An American Girl Adventure_ movie. (The costumes of Ben, Felicity, and Elizabeth are seen in around the beginning to middle part of the movie, and the costumes of Nan and William are seen at the very end of the movie.)


	2. Chapter 2

_**Star Trek: The Next Generation – Souvenirs**_

**Written By:**_** Commander Cody CC-2224**_

Brief notes:

OK, after nearly so much anxiety of wondering how Felicity, Ben, Elizabeth, Nan, and William managed to get into the predicament of being stuffed into cryo-tubes, we now come to the chapters that discuss how they all ended up in the tubes in the first place. I won't spoil the details for you; otherwise the suspense of the story will be lost. This chapter will be the forerunner of the chapters that discuss the children's predicament on board the shuttlecraft. Felicity's story will begin here.

A few trivias concerning the ages of the characters (According to the Felicity Series, and possibly the Felicity Movie):

- Felicity Merriman: Initially described as age 9 in 1774, she then turned 10 in 1775, so she is now age 11 in 1776.

- Nan Merriman: Initially described as age 6 in 1774, she turned 7 in 1775, so she is now age 8 in 1776.

- William Merriman: Initially described as age 3 in 1774, he turned 4 in 1775, so he is now age 5 in 1776.

- Benjamin Davidson: Initially described as age 15 in 1774, he then turned 16 in 1775, so he is now age 17 in 1776. (If the Felicity movie advanced his age by a factor of 2, he would be allowed to leave the Merrimans' and join the Continental Army of the Republic.)

- Elizabeth Cole: Initially described as age 9 in 1774, she would have turned 10 in 1775, so she could be now age 11 in 1776. Basically Elizabeth is the same age as her best friend Felicity. (Any comments regarding the accuracy of her age would be appreciated.)

The purpose of this age analysis is to give the reader an idea of how old the characters might be.

Well, enough notes for now. We now continue to this movie-like fanfic on the legacy of Felicity Merriman. Good luck and enjoy the show (or rather the reading).

(P.S. I have a feeling that the conversations in this chapter might be somewhat lame, especially when it comes to Felicity striking up conversations with Ben, Elizabeth, and/or Nan. Any suggestions on improving their conversations to make it more interesting will be greatly appreciated.)

* * *

CHAPTER 2

Planet Earth

April 2, 1776 A.D.

0831 hours

Williamsburg, Virginia

Another usual day was starting in Williamsburg. The day was sunny and mild, with the tang of cool fresh air. At this time it would be fairly pleasant outside.

The streets were bustling with the usual come-and-goes of the inhabitants. Near the Duke of Gloucester Street the Merriman General Store was open for the usual shopping business. A few blocks away was the Merriman residence.

For eleven-year old Felicity Merriman it was another pleasant day, and it was a few days prior to her birthday. After she got dressed for Miss Manderly's gentlewoman lessons she raced downstairs to the parlor. Felicity's younger sister Nan intervened as she attempted to lace her stays tight. After a few quick fixes done by Mrs. Merriman, she kissed her mother goodbye and dashed outside where Benjamin Davidson, Mr. Merriman's apprentice, was waiting for her.

The distance from the Merrimans' to Miss Manderly's was just about a ten minutes' walk, the same route that Felicity would take to Miss Manderly's area of residence. As Ben was escorting Felicity they exchanged conversations about the affairs of the war. They even brought up the topic of Ben going off to join the Continental Army of the Republic when he reached eighteen years of age.

"Ben, I'm sure going to miss you terribly if you join the army."

"I know, Lissie. I know. But somehow I have a strong desire to join in the fight for our independence. Like you, I have a terribly restless spirit. Besides, 'tis my patriotic duty."

Felicity nodded in assent. Ben could not help watching the very light, gentle breeze playing with Felicity's wavy ginger red hair.

"Which is why it would do you well that you enjoy every minute with me on every escort to your lessons," declared Ben wistfully, as he knew full well that in the midst of the war Felicity would live a sheltered life while Ben would be forced to face and battle the ruthless elements that would accompany him for the rest of the war, if he ever joined. But as a Patriot, his itching to fight for his country acted as a stimulant that would focus him away from the horrors of war. Besides, he was beginning to express discontent for being cooped up in Mr. Merriman's store. His yearning for adventure was far too strong.

After nearly a few minutes Ben and Felicity arrived at the whitewashed gate, which stood at the entrance to Miss Manderly's front yard and thence to her house.

"Here we are. Enjoy your lessons," declared Ben, as he found himself unable to resist glancing into Felicity's sparkling green eyes. His face formed a slight smile; he seemed to have great affection for her.

In a demure fashion Felicity smiled lightly, turned, and entered the front yard. Ben tipped his lightly rugged dark-brown tri-cornered hat as he waved her off, a habit he developed since he first escorted her to Miss Manderly's.

Felicity approached the door and rapped steadily three times. Seconds later the door opened and Miss Manderly appeared, holding the door open for her.

"Good afternoon, Miss Merriman. You are well, I hope," declared Miss Manderly, in a graceful effort to be courteous to her.

"I am, thank you, Miss Manderly," replied Felicity.

"You are just in time," said Miss Manderly sweetly. "We were just about to begin." She held the door open and Felicity daintily stepped inside. Miss Manderly shut the door gently and ushered Felicity into the parlor.

Felicity's best friend Elizabeth Cole was there to greet her. "Felicity!" she exclaimed ecstatically.

Felicity smiled, as usual. "Good day, Elizabeth." Both girls were itching to embrace each other, but at Miss Manderly's they were act in a professional manner.

"Is it the shopkeeper's daughter again?" inquired Annabelle, Elizabeth's older sister.

"Ladies, you will stay here and behave yourselves while I fetch my sampler kit," announced Miss Manderly. "I won't be long." She went upstairs.

Felicity turned to Annabelle. "What's wrong with being here?" she asked, acting in the manner of a girl her age whose feelings were a little bit hurt.

"You're a Patriot," replied Annabelle in a caustic tone of voice. "A member of the no-good colonists who desire to rebel against the king of England. I feel so ashamed to be socializing with people such as _you_."

"If you are going to hold personal prejudices me this much," replied Felicity, as she attempted to hold her composure, "They you must also hold prejudices against Ben as well. Elizabeth and I know full well that you have a crush on him."

Elizabeth giggled, her hand muffling the sounds from her mouth. Annabelle stood agape, in shock. Then, returning her composure, she swatted her bag against her sister's dainty head. Elizabeth stopped giggling instantly. Annabelle then turned abruptly to Felicity and glared at her.

"How dare you imply such a thing," replied Annabelle bitterly, casting a glare at her.

"'Tis true" Felicity replied coolly, as if she didn't care one bit what she said to her. A surge of embarrassment crept on Annabelle, as she remembered the terrible joke she and Felicity played on her regarding her flirtations with Ben.

"Is that arguing I hear?" queried Miss Manderly. Her voice could trail from upstairs to the parlor. Miss Manderly was descending the stairs and entering the parlor. She eyed on all three girls with suspicion before eventually casting a long glance at Felicity in the eye.

"Miss Felicity, may I remind you that if you keep provoking Annabelle again, I shall have to inform your parents about it."

"Yes, ma'am," replied Felicity meekly. Inside she might have felt insulted, but her bringing up the topic of Annabelle's crush on Ben gave her an immense feeling of euphoria.

"Now, ladies, have you brought your samplers?"

All three girls nodded.

"Very well. We shall begin a new kind of stitchery that is a little more advanced than what you were taught before." Their embroidery lessons began.

* * *

Three hours later…

The girls were busy as bees with their embroidery on the hooked sampler. The parlor clock kept ticking as Miss Manderly went around the table to check on their progress.

Suddenly a loud shriek was heard outside. Not the shriek of a person. It seemed to have come high above the heavens. The shriek was then followed by a huge ear-splitting explosion. Instinctively the girls peered out the window to check whatever was going on.

Outside nearly the whole of Williamsburg was in an uproar, wondering what the hell was going on. Some of the inhabitants thought that Williamsburg was under attack by the British. One man swore that he had seen "a glaring streak of fire". Some men were dispatched to find out where the explosion took place.

After nearly a minute in stunned silence Miss Manderly half-heartedly decided to ignore the whole affair for the time being. But she couldn't take off her mind the thought of Williamsburg being attacked.

"Ladies, I will have to dismiss you for the time being," Miss Manderly announced with composure.

"Isn't it a little too early, ma'am?" asked Felicity, who was curious as to why they would be dismissed at this time. Lessons were not usually over until one in the afternoon.

"I'm afraid so. By the uproar we hear outside there is the possibility that Williamsburg is under attack by the British. Your parents will be worried about your whereabouts. Be sure to finish your sampler by tomorrow morning."

Annabelle immediately got up and strode pompously to the front door. "Come, Bitsy, we're leaving."

"Oh, how I detest that nickname," remarked Elizabeth, for the hundredth time as she picked up her sampler from the table, along with Felicity. Both girls walked out the front door.

The girls were now outside, about to leave Miss Manderly's front yard. All of a sudden an idea surged through Felicity's spirited mind.

"I have an idea," cried Felicity. "Elizabeth, why don't you and I discuss with Father about looking for the source of the explosion we heard? Some people are bent on looking for whatever crashed near Williamsburg."

"Um,…all right," replied Elizabeth timidly. She was not a particularly brave individual; however her curiosity was strong enough to give her the impetus of going with her friend on that little escapade.

"Let's go, then," replied Felicity. She grabbed Elizabeth's hand for brief moment until they were outside and out of Miss Manderly's abode. Then both girls sprinted as fast as they could, holding the front of their skirts high. The only girl who stayed behind outside was Annabelle, who was calling to her sister to get back.

"Bitsy, you're going to get in trouble!" Annabelle called out.

"The hell she is!" Felicity called back. "Bye, Bananabelle!" Both girls snickered as Annabelle turned her back on them and flounced away.

They dashed along the street in a hurry until they reached the Merriman General Store.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't the merriest girls in Virginia," greeted Mr. Merriman in a jovial manner.

"Father," began Felicity, who was nearly out of breath, "We heard a shriek and then an explosion. Nearly all of Williamsburg is in an uproar."

"I see. With this uproar, it's a wonder how any business will get finished."

"Um, Father, would it be all right if Elizabeth and I may explore the place where the explosion took place?"

"You may, but only when Ben is with you. And you'll have to let Mother know first."

Felicity turned to Ben, who was busy stacking the shelves. "Ben, can you accompany us to the place of the explosion?"

"What?" asked Ben incredulously. "What explosion?"

"When we were at Miss Manderly's we heard a shriek and then an explosion. We want to know where it took place."

Ben glanced at the girls with a skeptic face. When his curiosity was awakened, he asked permission from Mr. Merriman if he could accompany the girls.

"Of course, Ben. But mind that you keep an eye on them. If there seems to be no customers at the store for a long time perhaps I might come to join you all." Ben and the girls left, and Mr. Merriman tended to an anxious customer, a middle-age man.

Ben and the girls trudged back home. When they got inside, Mrs. Merriman came to greet them. She was at odds to know why they were dismissed from Miss Manderly's early.

"Lissie? Elizabeth? Why were you dismissed from Miss Manderly's? You know that lessons are not over until one."

Ben decided to speak on behalf of the girls. "According to Felicity, there was a shriek and then an explosion. From how I perceived it, the explosion might have taken place on the outskirts of Williamsburg."

"Can we explore the place, Mother?" pleaded Felicity.

Mrs. Merriman turned pensive for a moment. After a short while, she said, "I suppose you're old enough to look after yourselves. But be sure Ben is accompanying you. I fear that the area which you are about to explore can be pretty dangerous, especially for you girls."

As Ben and the girls were about to leave, they heard Nan's voice. "What's this shriek and explosion I hear?" she asked, as she stepped out of the parlor. Felicity's younger brother William followed suit.

"Would you like to come?" asked Ben humorously.

"'Tis silly, Lissie" replied Nan indignantly. "Gentlewomen do not…"

The three left and shut the door behind Nan. But before they could even take one step, the door opened again. It was Nan. "I'd like to see what that explosion is all about," she said, with a demanding look on her face.

"So do I," put in William.

Mrs. Merriman became slightly worried. "Very well, children. Do be careful, all of you. I'll remind Father that all of you are going that place of whatever that explosion occurred and ask him to check on you. And I suppose I'll have to let your mother know that you're with the rest of the children, Miss Cole." Elizabeth's father had just made his personal refuge in the colony of New York because he was told to leave Williamsburg around the middle of March on account of his Loyalist leanings in the midst of the town's Patriot majority.

"Yes, ma'am," replied Elizabeth placidly.

Ben nodded in agreement, and he, along with Felicity, Elizabeth, Nan, and William was off.

Ben, William, and the rest of the girls rushed to the Merriman stable. Immediately Felicity mounted Penny, her favorite horse, who was coated with a copper sheen (hence the name). Ben assisted Elizabeth with mounting Old Bess, the Merrimans' white horse, and helped Nan and William on Patriot, wherein he rode with them for safety purposes., Penny's foal, now fairly developed. Felicity was tempted to have Penny run, but she needed to make sure that the rest of her siblings and friends catch up with her. So after all of them were mounted, they had the horses trot out of the stables and onto the streets of Williamsburg.

On the streets they followed wherever the small crowd went. They followed them until they came to the grassy meadow where Felicity often rode Old Bess during her leisure time. Soon they witnessed a sparse group of men, women, and children crowded together. This gave them the impetus to hurry along and get a taste of what the explosion yielded.

The children approached the site that gradually revealed a smoldering piece of wreckage, and dismounted off the horses. The girls were very much aghast, but Ben was fairly nonchalant about the whole affair. He was the first to take another step toward the wreckage, and the rest of the children followed. The wreckage comprised of what appeared to be the remains of a crashed escape pod, and it was as large as a stagecoach. But where did it come from? Ben and the rest circled around the wreckage for a while. He especially had to keep an eye on William, who was constantly poking and prodding the remains and occasionally picking stuff up and dropping them. Nan for the most part was wild-eyed, as if she had never seen a sight like that before, and so was Felicity and Elizabeth. A sense of astonishment was surrounding them.

All of a sudden something caught Felicity's eye. From under the wreckage was a material entity of what appeared to be the body of a person. Felicity rushed to it and examined it tenderly for a brief moment.

"There's someone who died!" called Felicity in exclamation that sounded as though she were surprised out of her fairly ladylike wits. Ben and the rest of the children rushed to her side.

Ben examined it closely and touched the face. He started becoming suspicious. "Uh, Lissie," he asked.

Felicity immediately turned her head to face exactly where Ben was positioned as he was intently facing the wreckage. "What is it?"

"I think we have to consider the possibility that this could be a trap."

"Why?" asked Felicity, who was slightly crossed.

"Well, whoever left it there could be counting on us to extract the body, and the something terrible is going to happen." Ben, along with Felicity, stood up and looked at the ground. "Lissie, why don't we wait for your father to help us? He should be arriving here pretty soon."

"Aye. But that will depend on whether Father can leave the store if there are no customers at all."

"Well, perhaps he might change his mind."

In a few minutes Mr. Merriman arrived at the scene of the crash. "What's up, children?"

"Father," began Felicity, "There's a body in the wreckage. We were thinking of taking it out, but we thought that we should do this with you."

"Both of you thought prudently," said Mr. Merriman in reply. "Now, let's pull that man out of there."


	3. Chapter 3

_**Star Trek: The Next Generation – Souvenirs**_

**Written By:**_** Commander Cody CC-2224**_

Brief Notes:

We are still on the subject regarding the abduction of Felicity and her friends and siblings by the humanoid-alien creatures. I estimate the subject will cover at least two more chapters before arriving to the part where Captain Picard and the Enterprise crew find them in the cryo-tubes on board the alien shuttlecraft. So please hang in there. It will take a long while for me to come up with any engaging dialogue with the characters, as well as any fairly vivid descriptions of action scenes throughout the rest of the story. The obstacles I'm forced to encounter are the business of homework and the writer's block.

Anyway…

We now continue to the part where Felicity, Ben, Elizabeth, Nan, and William are abducted by space aliens! How thrilling! (Sort of…)

* * *

CHAPTER 3

Mr. Merriman and the children proceeded to extract the cadaver from the damaged escape pod. Steadily they approached it and grouped themselves near the char-broiled body.

"By the looks of this poor fellow 'twill take all six of us to get him out of that damaged contraption, whatever it is," declared Mr. Merriman with a sigh. The children listened fairly attentively, as they awaited Mr. Merriman's orders.

"Here's how we're gonna do this," announced Mr. Merriman. "Ben, you're gonna lift whatever obstacle is getting the poor fellow stuck." Ben drew nearer to the area where the cadaver was stuck fast in the middle.

"Lissie, Miss Elizabeth," Mr. Merriman ordered, as he turned to the older girls, "Both of you will take each side of the body, as two people will be needed to extract the fellow carefully." The girls did as they were told, as each of them positioned themselves on one side of the body.

"Nan, William, you'll manage his head, since you seem to be a little more careful than I am."

"Really?" asked Nan in surprise. For her this was the first time she ever got to engage in an activity that involved mostly boys. Even if her sensible head told her that it was "not proper", she still decided to engage in it anyway because first, her father told her to do so, and second, because for her it was the beginning of too much unusual fun for her.

"I should think so," replied Mr. Merriman. "Besides, Ben will need assistance with lifting up whatever is getting the body stuck fast. The area where Ben is seems to be in dire need of stronger people." It seemed then that Mr. Merriman was willing to take chances with Nan and William in assisting the extraction of the cadaver.

Mr. Merriman and the children came in direct contact with the char-broiled cadaver. Positioning their hands on the body, they proceeded to extract him from the wrecked escape pod as carefully as they could. But then something strange began to happen nearly a few seconds later as the children, save for Mr. Merriman, touched the body. All of a sudden a blinding white light surrounded them. The children, except Mr. Merriman strangely, were squinting as they instinctively turned their heads one way or the other. The phenomenon lasted for 3 seconds before it disappeared entirely. Immediately the children stopped working, got up, and looked around in confusion.

"What was that?" asked Elizabeth, who was slightly timid at this point.

"I definitely have no idea," replied Felicity, who seemed perturbed by the phenomenon as Elizabeth. Then she regained her spunk. "Besides, I'm dying to know what the bright light was coming from. If not the sun, then where? And to what point and purpose was it for anyway."

Both Nan and William were petrified, their eyes wide in astonishment. Mr. Merriman wasn't disturbed one bit. All he ever said was, "Children, can we continue working to get this poor fellow out of his wrecked grave?"

"Hang on a moment, sir," replied Ben. Mr. Merriman gave a long sigh; Ben was at odds to know how and why his master didn't seem to be disturbed one bit.

Being was slightly confused by the blinding light incident, Ben proceeded to survey the craft and the surroundings. Eventually he came across a bizarre distortion on a certain area of the pod's surface. Instinctively touching the distortion, he discovered that the surface was ethereal rather than solid. He therefore came to a conclusion that if this craft wasn't real, then neither was the surroundings. Ben would have to convey this conclusion to the rest of the children, but how? Running back to where the children were, he proceeded to make clear his announcement on the idea that the surroundings that they were in could be an illusion.

"Uh, girls, I think we've been somehow transported to fairy-land. Or rather, I might be the only one who has been transported to fairy-land."

The children looked at Ben in an apparent state of incredulity. "Fairyland?" piped up William. Then a chorus of inquiries ensued.

"You mean to say that none of this, or none of us, is real?" inquired Felicity.

"Are you sure?" asked Elizabeth. "Everything looks real to me."

"Will we get to see the fairies?" asked Nan innocently.

"I might be the only one. I just saw…" He took a deep breath; what he was about to convey to the girls was going to get pretty bizarre. "…By coincidence my eyes happened to catch sight of some sort of…_image_ distortion on the wreckage."

"Show us," demanded Felicity. Her head was pretty much reeling over what the hell was going on. For her, what Ben had just conveyed, just as he knew it would be, was weird. Strange. Unusual. Unearthly. But despite all that she got up and Ben rushed to the area where he witnessed the distortion. The rest of the children followed. Felicity leaned closely, and the rest followed suit.

"It seems that the entire surroundings might be an illusion, including yourselves," remarked Ben. "Check yourselves to see if there are any image distortion on your bodies."

The children touched themselves and checked each other. There seemed to be none of the distortions that Ben was talking about.

"Where are we?" asked Elizabeth, who was starting to become frightened.

Before Ben could answer, an audible banging sound was heard. Turning around, the children witnessed two futuristic-looking sliding doors opening, right in the middle of a grassy field. It was as if a magical portal was opening. Then entered four humanoid-looking aliens wearing fancy violet uniforms with a glossy sheen, along with gloss black gloves and gloss black boots. Their heads were slightly larger than the average colonial the children ever encountered. On the forefront was a high-ranking officer, by the looks of the variety of weird colored badges pinned to the top of his uniform. The other three were armed with bizarre futuristic-looking rifles with a metallic gleam and a dab of glossy purple.

"Computer, end program!" commanded the humanoid-alien officer in a barking manner. The surrounding landscape disappeared, along with the wrecked escape pod and Mr. Merriman revealing a graph-like surrounding with yellow lines intersecting with each other.

"Father!" squeaked Felicity. She immediately became fraught with worry over her father's disappearance. The children were now in a holodeck of the alien cruiser, though they didn't know what the room was. It also seemed the entity of Mr. Merriman they were witnessing was just another holographic image, just like the wrecked escape pod.

"Take them to the brig," demanded the officer.

The five children were rounded up and apprehended roughly by the guards with great efficiency. They bound their hands to their front with electronic handcuffs and blindfolded them, after which they were immediately herded outside the holodeck.

Though the children didn't know it, they were being marched through a series of slightly curvy corridors that had an average length of five meters. The surroundings of the vessel had a violet tone. The carpeted floor was dark purple, and the wall panels had a violet hue, saved for some pure white sections where the red rectangular emergency lights had their niches in an orderly fashion. On every doorway was a single guard armed with his futuristic rifle. The officer would insert his keycard into a slot and the door would open. Past an intersection of corridors was a nearby room that had weird alien writing. That was the detention area, the brig room, in which they made their efficient entrance promptly.

Apart from a few square cells about two meters in both length and width, one was a little more larger, having a rectangular shape with a length of five meters and a width of three meters. It was positioned in a center along with the smaller cells. Unbeknownst to the children there was an invisible force field barrier surrounding the doorway completely, and as an indicator that the force field was engaged there was a neat red strip surrounding the doorway that glowed. The guard near the cell pressed a button on the right side of the cell that disengaged a force field barrier surrounding the doorway, wherein blue-and-white particles flickered and the red strip darkened. The guards removed the children's blindfolds, unlocked the electronic handcuffs binding the children's hands, and herded the children into the brig. Then a guard nearest the brig tapped the same pushbutton and the force field was engaged, with the particles flickering and the red strip glowing once again.

The humanoid alien officer positioned his fairly muscular arms akimbo and made an imperious declaration, though he wasn't that discourteous.

"We will be examining you small people one at a time," announced the officer. The children had all eyes fixated on him. "Our reason being is that we are _sooooo_ anxious to know so much about you. Cooperate with us, and you will be treated most courteously. If you don't cooperate with us, however, you will be treated in a most ungentlemanly fashion, including you young females. Of course we can't really afford to hurt you younglings because we abducted you from your timeline, and injuring you physically will render us incapable of returning you back to your own timeline, if we so choose. Be warned that if you tamper with the force field or attempt to escape in any way, the automatic blast doors will seal themselves and leave you trapped in the brig." After concluding his announcement the officer and the guards promptly left the room, leaving the children confused and confined to the brig.

* * *

On the alien vessel's bridge…

The circular bridge of the alien vessel was in a mild flurry of activity. On the view-screen was an image of the planet Earth, where they were currently orbiting. The Earth could be seen moving slowly.

The officer responsible for taking the 5 children to the brig entered the bridge. He managed to inform the captain that the children were safely in custody.

"Very good," replied the captain. He then turned to the view-screen.

"How goes the cloaking system?"

"The device is fully operational, captain, operating at 100% peak efficiency," replied one of the alien operators at the bridge monitor bay."

"Any major changes in the timeline?"

"None indicated sir."

"Nice to hear. Helm, set a course for the 24th century, using the exact date when we came from."

The helm's dashboard had a computer that displayed the temporal stats. The first bar indicated in the alien language the date in time where the ship was going, which read as April 2, 1776, 0810 hours, several minutes prior to the 5 children being transported to the vessel. The second bar registered the same date as the first bar, for it was an indicator of where the vessel currently was. The third bar registered as April 10, 2370, 0800 hours. Clearly this vessel was a time machine.

From space the alien vessel emitted chronometric particles from the rear before passing through a portal in space to another timeline.

* * *

Inside the alien vessel's brig…

Inside the brig room there was a moment of silence. That moment was interrupted by Nan.

"Who _are_ those people?" Nan inquired. Almost nobody could answer her, as they didn't know themselves. Ben made a hand gesture that indicated that he didn't know. Elizabeth could only remain silent and shake her head. Felicity seemed to be the only person to say, "I don't know, Nan."

William started having an idea. "Hey! There's nothing to confine us, and the way looks clear!"

"It looks clear, but it really isn't," remarked Ben. "Those kidnappers set up an invisible barrier. If you cross it you could either sound an alarm or get some kind of hurt."

"Well, I don't know about you, but I'm going to cross it," replied William as he approached closer to the brig's entrance.

"William, no! Don't!" gasped Felicity. She immediately got up and proceeded to prevent her brother from crossing the entrance.

It was too late. The moment William came into physical contact with the barrier, he gave out a loud howl and stumbled near the back wall of the brig. Elizabeth shrieked, putting her hand near her mouth. Felicity rushed to his side, and so did Nan. So did Ben and Elizabeth.

William felt a painful sensation. The pain receptors in his little body were kind of sensitive, and he felt as though he wanted to cry. His vision was blurry and he attempted to wipe away whatever tears accumulated in his eyes. Gradually he saw his older folks. He especially stared at Felicity, who had a disapproving look on his face.

"That is what happens when you don't obey your older sisters," remarked Felicity in a matter-of-fact way.

"Sissies," muttered William. "While you sisters were acting like proper young ladies I was attempting to find a way to escape this confinement."

"Well, then, congratulations to you, Will," remarked Ben sarcastically. "You have just tested the entranceway on behalf of all of us. I daresay you'll make a remarkable guinea pig."

"Ben!" Felicity exclaimed, turning her head to him abruptly as she knelt beside William.

"My apologies, my dear Lissie," replied Ben, as he steadily waved his hand down. "It's just that it's kind of boring in here, knowing that we could be cooped up in this Godforsaken cell for all eternity, waiting for those strange-looking men to toy with us for their own pleasure." He slumped near a corner in near despair. "God knows what they're gonna do to us."

Felicity decided to intervene on his behalf. "I have something that will cheer you up, Ben," she said as she approached him.

"Like playing at being in love?"

"I don't think so. Besides, I'm a little too young for this. Now this will cheer you up. I have to admit I seem to have developed feelings for you."

"What?" gasped Elizabeth. She was nearly elated and shocked (as usual) at the same time.

"Lissie!" exclaimed Nan. "You have a crush on him?"

Felicity felt her face reddening, as a surge of embarrassment crept all over her.

"Oh my!" replied Nan in ecstasy. Then she started jumping up and down and sashaying around the brig, singing, "_Lissie and Benjamin, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S…_"

"Nan!" objected Felicity, waving her hands in a gesture so as to make her stop. She then noticed Elizabeth, feeling nearly dejected about the whole affair. When she was in the colonies she often didn't have many opportunities to meet any new boys in Williamsburg. The only place where she could have the opportunity to do so were at the balls, which took place on a random occasion. But Elizabeth, being too young, although being allowed to attend, was not allowed to participate in them. Felicity could immediately notice the serious look on Elizabeth's face. Ben started to notice it, too.

"Don't worry, Elizabeth," remarked Ben in a matter-of-fact way. "Perhaps you'll find some eligible young men on board this transport. Granted that they might be alien to you."

"Ben, please don't rub it in," replied Felicity. Ben heaved a sigh. For him it the boredom of his confinement was forcing him to articulate remarks that the older girls didn't like.

"Did I miss anything?" inquired William.

"You just missed the wonderfully exciting mention of Lissie having a crush with Ben," replied Nan.

Felicity was starting to get exasperated with Nan's remarks about her crush. She started frowning at her. "Nan, if you make one more mention about this subject, I'll..I'll…" Nan remained stolid, arms akimbo, as she waited for her older sister to recite more threatening words. But Felicity had difficulty thinking of anything to prevent her sister from making any more embarrassing remarks about the whole affair. Besides, it would seem to do no good anyway, as her friends and siblings were aware of her crush with Ben anyway. She slumped down near the left corner of the brig and heaved a sigh as Ben, finding himself with nearly nothing to do, twiddled his thumbs at one of the alien guards on the right side of the brig entrance.

* * *

A/N (1): I'm starting to feel that the conversations the characters are engaged in are kind of sappy and stating the obvious. I had trouble trying to come up with impressive techno-babble for the alien vessel bridge scene. Any technical information regarding time traveling and socializing will be greatly appreciated.

A/N (2): The part about Elizabeth Cole not having many opportunities to meet young men at the balls was an idea taken from one of the chapters of "P.I.D."'s Felicity fanfic titled _The Romance of Ben and Annabelle_. Credit to "P.I.D.".


	4. Chapter 4

_**Star Trek: The Next Generation – Souvenirs**_

**Written By:**_** Commander Cody CC-2224**_

AUTHOR'S NOTICE:

I forgot to inform you: the gowns that Felicity and Elizabeth are wearing right now are the ones that they usually wear to Miss Manderly's. Felicity is wearing the yellow (or cream-colored gown) that she initially wore on her first lesson, and Elizabeth wears her pale blue gown with the many frills. Just so that you can get a picture of what they would look like in this story.

Author's Notes:

Again, as I've said initially, I do not own the characters of the Felicity: An American Girl. I do, however, get to own the Corellian officer and Captain Fass, the commander of the Corellian Science Vessel K'Tan.

Overview on the Corellians: Because the Corellians are not on the list of Star Trek alien species (on Wikipedia, that is), I've decided to include them in the story. However, the name "Corellian" was taken from Star Wars, so the name wasn't something that I came up on my own. The Corellians are one of the most advanced humanoid alien species that Capt. Picard will encounter later on. Their heads are a little more larger than the average human head, with a slightly larger cranial capacity, rendering them capable of a field of engineering far more advanced than perhaps even the Federation. Their science vessels are capable of time traveling through the use of the emanation of chronometric particles (c.f. _Star Trek: First Contact_), and they can engineer ships that can destroy any space vessel. Their vessels are equipped with cloaking devices and temporal shielding. The Corellians wear uniforms of a violet color and even have the interior of their ships decked with all sorts of violet shades.

However, their weakness is fear of assimilation by the Borg because they know full well that if the Borg assimilate them they will gain whatever knowledge the Corellians have, especially knowledge pertaining to their time-traveling capabilities, thus giving the Borg an advantage to utilize time travel to assimilate countless species. That is why when the Corellians find themselves surrounded by the Borg they will evade, if necessary, and if the Borg take over the vessel, they will escape it and scuttle it (activate the ship's self-destruct systems). Clearly the Corellians want to be left alone in their little time-travel escapades.

* * *

CHAPTER 4

The atmosphere inside the brig was filled with a feeling of seemingly eternal boredom and despondency. Lacking in something better to do to pass the time, Felicity, Ben, Elizabeth, Nan, and William stared aimlessly at the entranceway of the brig, seated in various positions. Felicity and Ben were seated on the floor, with their backs leaned against the built-in bench bolted to the left side of the brig. Elizabeth was seated on the center bench, except that her elbows were on top of her legs and her leaning head was supported by her hands. Nan was slumped on the right corner of the brig, her right little elbow supporting her leaning dainty head, and her left arm moving up and down in rhythm of the song "_Lissie and Benjamin sitting in a tree_…", though on occasion she would flit her fingers in the air to the rhythm of a random tune. William, being sort of restless, wandered around the brig, much to the annoyance of his older sister siblings, including Ben and Elizabeth.

Suddenly the same humanoid-alien officer who was responsible for the apprehending of Felicity, her siblings, and her friends arrived promptly with three guards. He ordered the force-field barrier to be disengaged, which was promptly done by the guard on the right side of the brig. Then the guards herded the children out of the brig and out of the detention area.

Passing a series of similar curvy corridors and intersections with the same violet hue, they arrive to a room filled with a myriad of advanced equipment for science surveys. In the room were two tables filled with all sorts of futuristic tools; for instance there was a soldering rod, and two claw-like devices. On the left side of the room from the entrance way's frame of reference were a series of kitchen sinks stacked neatly in a single row.

The guards herded the children near a row of patient's adjustable beds. The beds were shaped in a zigzag fashion. Near the headrest was a pole with two electronic curves on one end, positioned asymmetrically to each other. On top of the pole was a large 10x12 LCD plasma screen, which was black and off.

The officer ordered each of the children to get on one of the beds, and the guards proceeded to hoist Nan and William, since they were the littlest, on one of these beds. Ben, Felicity, and Elizabeth, calmly dragged themselves on one of these contraptions.

Immediately after the five children were positioned, the guards proceeded to strap their arms and legs with a Velcro strap, which only took a few seconds, given that the guards seemed to be efficient in whatever they were doing. Above the head of each child they closed the electronic curves until both its ends met at close proximity. Then the guards pushed a switch, and the screens lit up. A red laser hovered in one direction above the head of each of the children, as if it was scanning them externally and internally. On the screen could be seen visually whatever was in each of the children's minds, because the device being used was a memory downloader, capable of scanning and downloading visual flashbacks from a person's mind, and copying those files to an external hard drive in the form of a video file. These flashbacks slid back and forth in a flurry, and on the bottom of the display was a yellow-lined status bar with a moving yellow shade that gave a visual on the memory downloading progress, wherein numbers were displayed in a fancy font. The devices were downloading whatever was in their minds, starting from the day of their births to the day they encountered the devices.

The entire process took nearly ninety minutes. When the process was done, the officer opened a large container filled with bizarre rectangular electronic devices, which turned out to be external hard drives used as a repository for the downloaded memory logs. Each of the devices were hooked into the computer system and the files copied. Then the guards detached the devices from the computers and stuffed them into a rectangular crystal clear container. The guards then switched off the machines, undocked the curved devices over each of the children's heads, and unshackled the Velcro straps from their arms and legs. The children were ordered to get off the beds, and were herded out of the science lab and into another series of corridors. The group walked on until they came to a conference room. Outside the room was a long waiting bench, where the children were ordered to sit. When the children were seated, the officer pulled out his communicator. He spoke in an alien language as the children watched, bewildered.

"Jum'A to Captain Fass."

"What now?"

"Our earthlings from time are awaiting your interview. They're waiting outside your quarters."

"I'll be there. Keep them in custody outside the room."

A few minutes passed, which, to the children, seemed like hours. Later an alien official, who appeared to be the vessel's captain in a highly decorated violet uniform dress emerged. He handed the officer an electronic PADD (electronic interactive slate-board), and the officer handed the crystal-clear box filled with the hard drives. The captain received the box and abruptly entered his private quarters.

The officer in charge of the children's custody gave a quick glance at the PADD. It displayed a list of the children's names in the order of which they were to be interviewed individually and privately. Ben's name was on the list, so the officer announced, "Benjamin Davidson, you first."

The guards escorted Ben from the waiting bench and into the captain's private quarters. From the looks of it the room seemed to be half the size of the Templeton's grand ballroom, but it was fairly cozy in nature. In the middle of the room was a slightly long glossy table with a violet color and a thick black outline. On the table was a personal computer, with two LCD plasma screens facing opposite each other, though Ben was at odds to know what the device was. The chairs were purple as well, with a mahogany outline. Ben thought that he had stepped into a world of weirdos. Why were they so obsessed with violet colors, he wondered.

The captain was seated at the other wide end of the table opposite Ben. He made a hand gesture to him that ordered him to take a seat. Ben pointed to the single chair positioned at the other side of the table, and the officer nodded. So Ben took his seat. He watched intently as the captain opened the personal computer, took out one of the hard drives from the box, and plugged it into the system. Then the captain looked up. Ben stared at him.

"Computer, commence recording," commanded the captain. The computer gave an audible beep as a sign of acknowledgement. The recording would comprise of the video-recorded interviews with the five colonial children.

The captain and Ben were now face to face, eyes locked at each other. The captain began speaking to him in the same alien language he heard the other officer use on his communicator. Only after he said a few words did he start barking orders. Ben braced himself in his seat. The officer outside approached the captain and did something with the captain's right ear. Then the captain dismissed the lower-ranking officer from the captain's room.

"You are Benjamin Davidson, are you not?" inquired the captain, in a smooth, resonant voice.

"Aye, sir," Ben replied simply.

"I apologize for the slight delay. My universal translator kept malfunctioning on me."

Ben was at odds to know what the hell a universal translator was. He decided to make a mental note in his mind about that strange technical term.

"Anyway," continued the captain, "Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Captain Fass, commander of the Corellian science vessel K'Tan."

"Corellian?" asked Ben incredulously, and in a shocked tone of voice.

The captain nodded. "We Corellians are a time-traveling species. Our technology allows us to flit back and forth through time anywhere and anytime we want. We have captured and kept in our mild custody all five of you earthlings from your time period for further analysis. 2 boys and three girls, to be exact."

"Apart from studying us, are you going to consign the girls to sexual slavery?" asked Ben, suspiciously, and out of concern for the girls, especially Felicity, whom he had feelings to, since they had known each other for a long time ever since he was apprenticed to Mr. Merriman.

"No."

"Good. For a moment I was afraid you would be doing terrible things to them."

"Mr. Davidson, let me assure you that we cannot afford to physically or psychologically alter our human specimens. If we did, we would seriously alter the timeline, and the Temporal Bureau of Investigation would be hot on our tail. So, consider yourselves lucky."

Ben nodded in agreement. The captain resumed his conversation with him.

"Now, I'm going to ask a few questions pertaining to your personal history. You seem to be an ardent Patriot for the American cause to separate from the British monarchy, am I correct?"

"Aye, sir," replied Ben, in a fair amount of enthusiasm. "How do you know?"

"We studied earth history, including the history of the country where you came from, which is comprised of thirteen American colonies. All of you earthlings are from the colony of Virginia. From the outskirts of the colony's capital city, Williamsburg, if I am correct, you were transported to this vessel at approximately 0145 hours on April 2, 1776, according to the Gregorian calendar. To your standard time, that would be 1:45 in the afternoon."

"Wicked," replied Ben, in a feeling of fascination.

"We also know this because of the memory logs pertaining to you."

"What are memory logs?"

"They are files containing vivid memories in a person's mind. Once downloaded, you can view select files that will display memories in motion picture form."

"All right."

"The memory logs indicate that you are an ardent Patriot by your behavior and the conversations you hold within your host family, the Merrimans, including your intimate friend, Miss Felicity Merriman."

The officer turned the notebook computer so that the screen faced Ben. At a certain excerpt in the chapter of his life he could see himself from first person view escorting Felicity to Miss Manderly's and talking about the war. He found himself looking at the Virginia militia marching on the street.

"_How I envy them…"_ remarked the Ben of the past.

The captain forwarded to another excerpt to the part where Ben was talking about the war to Felicity. Ben was intently watching the blurry effect of the fast-forwarding motion picture.

…"_The war is changing, Felicity. You must pay attention. There's more to life than tea lessons."_

"_It would be a sign to refuse. Tea is a sign of your hostess's hospitality…"_

"_Tea is a sign of tyranny!"_

Ben was taken aback at what he saw. How was all this possible, he wondered.

"Sir, I…" began Ben, but the captain held up his right hand as a signal to stop talking.

"I have one more excerpt of your life's chapter to show you, Mr. Davidson; one that not only shows you to be an ardent patriot for freedom's cause but also the one that seems to pertain to the inception of your feelings to your friend, Miss Felicity Merriman."

Then the captain forwarded the motion picture to the part where Ben was in the middle of the King's Creek plantation woods. From first person view, he could see his right leg bloodied and bandaged in a makeshift fashion. The captain forwarded a little further until he came to the part where Felicity was tending to him. Ben could see himself on the screen facing Felicity busying herself with tending his injured leg.

"…_I have to be part of the battle for our freedom!" cried Ben._

"_Aren't you the one who told me you can't have everything you want?"_

"_This is different," replied Ben indignantly._

"_Not to me it isn't!" Felicity retorted._

_Felicity started tearing an area of Ben's half-stained shirt and started wrapping it round his injured leg._

The scene paused, showing the scene of Felicity tending his leg from first person view.

"You seem to have developed intimate feelings with Felicity Merriman, or Lissie, as you call her." inquired Captain Fass.

"To put it quite bluntly, aye. But those intimate feelings are only at a certain depth."

"Explain."

"Well…" Ben was rather hesitant to discuss the topic, but from the looks of it he was under obligation to answer the captain's every question. "Since the start of my apprenticeship with Mr. Merriman, I have been with Felicity Merriman for a long time. We converse with each other, share secrets with each other, and assist Mr. Merriman in his establishment. There might have been times when our feelings for each other have gone beyond mere friendship, but for the sake of propriety we restrained them."

"Fascinating," replied the captain. "I'm forced to admit, you two are an interesting pair. But then you have another girl who takes a fancy on you."

"You mean Annabelle Cole?"

"You guessed right. Let me show you."

"No, thank you, sir. I get your point."

"So you remember the time when Annabelle started flirting with you during the Templeton ball?"

Ben was getting rather uncomfortable with that particular subject. "She started acting as if she were in love with me."

"Interesting."

"But I don't seem to be that interested in Miss Cole."

"Hmm. Well then, you and Miss Merriman will indeed make a perfect match."

"Sir!" cried Ben indignantly. "For the sake of my honor and the honor of Felicity please don't imply that we are in love! She's only eleven years old; that's still too young!"

"My apologies, Mr. Davidson. Now, concerning the matters of secrets, whatever secrets you had between you and your…how do I put it…"girlfriend"…are no longer secret, as they have been scanned and downloaded into our private databases and into the external hard drives. Be assured that whatever was discussed is between you and me. However, should you not cooperate with us, we will divulge all your deepest and most embarrassing secrets to the rest of your friends. Then you will be truly embarrassed."

"Yes, sir," replied Ben in a nonchalant manner, as he had a feeling that it wouldn't do any good.

The captain pressed a buzzer on the table. The Corellian officer came in.

"Have him wait outside my quarters. And bring in the red-haired earthling."

"Which one?" queried the officer.

"The ginger, you blasted idiot! The one with the ginger hair! You know what the color of ginger looks like, don't you?"

"Yes, captain."

Nearly half a minute later Felicity was escorted into the captain's quarters. Felicity was seated in the same chair that Ben sat, pleating the skirts of her cream-colored gown. the Corellian officer was dismissed. He promptly left the room.

"You are…" began Captain Fass, but his internal universal translator was screwing up again. He began barking orders in alien language. The Corellian officer dashed into the room in a prompt marching manner and tinkered with the captain's right ear. Then the officer left the room.

"My apologies, female earthling," replied the officer.

Felicity thought that what he called her was a little too discourteous on the captain's part. "It's Miss Merriman," corrected Felicity.

"Very well," replied the captain. "I take it you are called Felicity Merriman, or Lissie, as some affectionately call you, the offspring of Edward and Martha Merriman."

Felicity nodded. She usually retained her spunky trait, even in the midst of adversity, but to her, the entire surroundings she was in was terra incognita. So perhaps it wasn't all surprising that she would be a little timid. Nevertheless, she managed to keep her composure, though her restless spirit made her slightly jumpy.

"Anyway, I am Captain Fass, commander of the Corellian science vessel _K'Tan_."

Captain Fass told her the same things about the time when she and her siblings and friends were transported to the Corellian space vessel, how the Corellians were a time-traveling alien species, and how each of the children's memories were scanned and downloaded into the ship's database and external hard drives.

"I also take it that you are an ardent Patriot of the American colonial cause for your country's freedom?"

"I am," replied Felicity, meekly.

"Your friend Mr. Davidson tells me he is one as well," remarked Fass. Felicity nodded as she gave a sphinx-like smile.

"Indeed. By what is indicated in your memory logs, and those pertaining to your friend, you seem to have developed feelings for each other. Tell me, Miss, are you in love?"

This question was enough to make Felicity blush. She felt her cheeks redden. She tried to answer as honestly as she could.

"I'll have to admit, my feelings for Ben can have the tendency to go beyond mere friendship. Because I find it _sooo_ boring to remain prim and proper, my heart will scream for me to indulge deeply with such feelings…"

"Yet you're so embarrassed to tell your family members and friends, especially Mr. Davidson?"

"Aye. To them it will go beyond propriety. I will have to respect that."

"Such an honorable young lady," remarked the interested Captain Fass. "How surprising that you still keep such chastity, even with that spunk and sprite of yours."

Felicity could not help smiling. "You flatter me so, sir," she quipped.

"Indeed I do," remarked Fass in a matter-of-fact manner. "You seem to be the exact opposite of your younger sister Nan, who is so intent on acting like a proper gentlewoman of her era."

"She can become quite vexing at times," replied Felicity. "However, the bond of sisterhood we share is strong. She is a dear to me."

"I see. And what about the friendship you have with a Loyalist girl by the name of Miss Elizabeth Cole?"

"The same as with Nan. Despite the political differences between her family and mine, we remain best friends."

"Such a touching circumstance," remarked Fass in slight awe. "Especially despite the fact that Patriots and Loyalists were doing things to each other too terrible to behold, much less talk about. I wonder how a friendship like that seems possible among you humans…but of course, that seems to only happen with the females, since they seem to be more compassionate than the males…" he stopped for a moment. "To be honest with you, Miss, you, along with your touching remarks, seem to remind me of the things we lack."

Felicity became slightly suspicious. "What sort of things do you lack, sir?" she inquired.

"The emotions and bonds that you humans of the 18th century have."

"I don't understand," replied Felicity with a quizzical look.

"Don't bother. Anyway, concerning these two circumstances of human bonding, they are right in saying that 'opposites attract'. That's one of the rules of magnetism."

Felicity looked puzzled about the subject on magnetism. Captain Fass could notice that look as well.

"Don't even bother about the term 'magnetism'. It's too complicated a term to you."

Felicity kept a straight face. Captain Fass decided to move on to another subject as Felicity felt herself getting rather fidgety from sitting in the chair for a long time.

"Anyway, we now come to the matter of politics. The memory logs pertaining to you indicate that aside from having a seemingly forbidden friendship with Miss Cole, you also are somewhat influenced by the Loyalist and pacifistic views of your Grandfather, the one on your mother's side."

Felicity cast a suspicious glare at the captain as he turned on the LCD screen in front of her. She became immediately startled, as she never saw a device like that in her life. Captain Fass hooked up the hard drive containing Felicity's memories into the personal computer and browsed through the motion picture for the part where she was being escorted to Miss Manderly's home by Ben.

Felicity stared at the screen. She saw herself in first person view, telling Ben, _"Grandfather said that nothing is worth going to war over."_ The motion picture on the screen was paused.

"Nothing…is…worth…going…to…war…over," quoted the captain, putting a space between every word. "Is it true that your grandfather ever said that?"

"Aye. He did."

"Do you hold to that belief?"

Felicity was rather hesitant to answer. "Sometimes."

Captain Fass chortled. "You know, you might make a very good pacifist, Miss Merriman. Perhaps if you go back, you might be able to persuade America's Congressmen to end this silly little war the colonies have with the British."

Felicity cast him a glare. "That 'silly little war' is the only hope for the colonies to achieve the independence it wants," she replied hotly.

"Was," remarked the captain in an apathetic and bored manner.

"What?" asked Felicity, confused.

"You're now in the 24th century, Miss Merriman. The conflict between the American colonists and the mother country of Britain was won in favor of colonists nearly 8 centuries ago. So _be happy_!"

Felicity cast an attractively serious look at the captain, as she found it slightly discourteous for him to trivialize the circumstances of the Patriots fighting a war that was taking a heavy tool at their side. She started having flutters in her stomach as she sadly remembered the fact that Ben would leave the Merrimans to join the Continental Army of the Republic in the fight for freedom's cause. That is, if she and her friends and siblings ever managed to go back to their own timeline…

Then Felicity became utterly confused, transitioning from having a serious face to one filled with perplexity. "H-how's that possible?" she asked, slightly timid.

"I'm afraid I can't divulge the details to you, Miss Merriman," replied Fass, with an apologetic look in his slightly unnaturally huge face. "You see, under the Temporal Prime Directive, we Corellians cannot divulge future historical information to our human captives from different timelines. Such an action would drastically change history, and the Temporal Bureau of Investigation would be hot on our heels."

"Pray, sir, what this Temporal Bureau of Investigation is."

"It's a law enforcement organization designed to keep an sharp eye on the events of history, you know, being on alert for any changes in the timeline that they find critical. The Bureau has sort of given us free reign to go flitting back and forward through time, as long as we didn't take any courses of action that could affect the timeline in a drastic manner."

The captain decided to switch to another topic. "Let's go on the topic of secrets. From what we can glean from the memory logs pertaining to you, you seem to have done things that the society in which you live in would consider…what was the word…'unladylike', or, as your younger sister would incessantly tout, 'improper for a gentlewoman'. Just to confirm that the memory logs have an foolproof connection with you, am I correct in saying that, for example, you snuck out of home to tend to a four-legged beast of burden with a copper coloring, as well as borrow the clothes of your friend…or should I say…lover?"

"Benjamin Davidson is my friend, but not my 'lover' in the usual sense of the word, Captain," replied Felicity in a serious tone of voice. "As for this '4-legged beast of burden with a copper coloring' you describe, the beast of burden is my favorite horse, Penny."

"Why would your 'horse' be called that name," inquired Fass, in an interested tone.

"Her skin is the color of a penny," Felicity replied dreamily.

"I see. Well, young Miss, as I've told your friend Mr. Davidson before, whatever secrets you have are no longer secret, as they were scanned and downloaded into our database and external hard drives. But be assured that whatever was discussed in this room is between you and me. However, should you not cooperate with us, we will divulge all your deepest and most embarrassing secrets to the rest of your friends. Then you will be truly embarrassed."

Felicity was pretty much undaunted over the warning. "What good will it do, sir? Whatever secrets I have, especially the one concerning my crush with Ben, is already revealed to my best friend, and my brother and sister."

"I'm totally aware of that," replied Fass gleefully. "But have you ever considered the consequences of having such secrets spilled among the crew of this vessel? You'll be the laughingstock of the entire crew, Miss Merriman."

"I don't care," declared Felicity seriously. "I will not stand for myself and my friends and family members being toyed about by creatures of the likes of you. I suspect you want to keep us children on your vessel so you can do all kinds of things that I strongly suspect will be terribly offensive to us."

Captain Fass chuckled heavily to himself. "You suspect that we might take advantage of you?"

"Aye."

"Well, worry not, Miss. You see, we cannot afford to harm any of you because, as I've said to Mr. Davidson, such actions will seriously disrupt the timeline. So, consider yourselves _very_ lucky."

Felicity nodded. Captain Fass stared profusely at her. Felicity started to smile, and so the captain made every effort to smile at her. He found himself unable to resist her glamorous, sparkling charms.

Then Captain Fass started to get smitten by her that he started to get up from his desk and approach her closely. He grasped her left arm, which felt so tenderly soft to him, and slowly edged his hands on her arm. Then he tenderly put his fingers on Felicity's soft lips, and slid his right hand on her cheeks, slightly slapping them twice on the left side of her face. He was just about to place his hand on the left side of her irresistibly attractive bosom when Felicity violently slapped his hand away. Immediately her face cast a fiery glare at the captain.

"_Don't…you…dare, Captain Fass!_" snapped Felicity, putting every millisecond of space and accent on each word.

The captain stayed his hand, and continued staring at her, in slight shock, while making a straight face. Then as he returned to himself he strode up to his desk and pressed the buzzer. The Corellian officer and two guards came in promptly.

"Take this feisty human female back to the brig. Handcuff her, but remove the restraints when she gets back there. And mount a camera on one of the top corners of the cell." Then he said in a lower voice that even Felicity could make out, "I want to see her pine away for her lover."

The guards slapped their strong arms on Felicity as the officer lazily bound her hands with the electronic handcuffs. Then as they dragged her out of the room, Felicity frowned at the captain. "You're des_pi_cable," she seethed. Fass just simply gave a frown-like smile as Felicity was led out of the room.

Outside the captain's quarters the children watched as the Corellian officer ordered the guards to escort Felicity back to the brig.

"What happened, Lissie?" cried Elizabeth.

"Lissie, what did you do?" blurted out Ben.

"I'll explain later," replied Felicity curtly. Ben's face was filled with the looks of concern and suspicion. Had the captain done something terribly offensive to Lissie, he wondered. The officer stood at the doorway.

"Shall we begin with the next captive?" inquired the officer.

"Mm," replied the captain lazily. "Bring me the other human female, the one with the blond hair."

"Aye, sir." The officer firmly grabbed Elizabeth's right arm as she sat with the rest of the children. Then he brought her into the captain's quarters and gestured to the chair where Ben and Felicity previously sat for the interview. Elizabeth, in a demure fashion, pleated her gown in a ladylike manner and took her seat. Then the officer promptly left the room.

"Computer, commence recording," commanded the captain. As usual, an audible beep of acknowledgement was heard. Then he began his interview with Elizabeth.

"I take it that you are Miss Elizabeth Cole, the offspring of John and Catherine Cole, am I correct?"

Elizabeth nodded, slightly timid. She kept avoiding Fass's incessant stare. The human females are just too pretty to ignore ogling at, the captain thought to himself.

"Or should I just call you 'Bitsy'?"

That nickname perked Elizabeth's head up. Her pretty face had a rather serious look to it. "I detest that nickname," she remarked.

"Oh," replied the Captain in a nonchalant manner. "But it's a cute nickname."

"Not for me it isn't. To me it's terribly demeaning.

"Hmm. I take it that this is the nickname that your older sister…what was her name…Annabelle Cole addresses you by."

Elizabeth started to feel surprised. "How do you know all this," she inquired innocently.

Captain Fass hooked up the hard drive containing Elizabeth's memories into his personal computer and turned it on. He browsed through the file until he came to a random part where Elizabeth was at Miss Manderly's. She was shocked as she witnessed herself in first person view, except that she was staring at the table, packing her sampler as she and Felicity were about to leave the parlor. She could hear Annabelle's calm and snooty voice echoing on the audio.

"_Bitsy, I'm leaving with or without you."_ The scene paused.

"Memory logs," commented Captain Fass.

"Who are you," inquired Elizabeth in a skeptical tone of voice.

"Oh, my apologies, Miss. I forgot to introduce myself. My name is Captain Fass, commander of the Corellian science vessel K'Tan."

Those alien names sounded so weird to Elizabeth. She sat wide-eyed in wonder.

"As confirmation to these memories, did you ever, as a Loyalist, befriend the Patriot female Miss Merriman?"

"Aye," replied Elizabeth.

"Your father at one point was jailed for his Loyalist beliefs, am I correct?"

"Aye. And my best friend persuaded her father to secure the release of my father," replied Elizabeth, proudly.

Captain Fass started feeling bored. So he sang a little tune to the "Eentsy-Weentsy Spider", except that he changed the lyrics to include Elizabeth's nickname, loud enough for Elizabeth to hear. He just couldn't help calling her "Bitsy".

_The Itsy, Bitsy Baby crawled up the water spout,_

_Down came the rain, and washed the Bitsy out,_

_Out came the sun and dried up all the rain,_

_And the Itsy, Bitsy Baby crawled up the spout again._

Elizabeth started feeling kind of annoyed about that nickname, but she started feeling half-amused. "Where did you learn that song?" asked Elizabeth in fascination.

"Oh, just a little song from Earth that children used to sing. Can't divulge the details to you, Miss Cole, as it would violate the Temporal Prime Directive?"

"Pray, what's that?"

This was a question similar to what Felicity had asked him, though he somehow had the patience to answer it, even if it meant repeating the same words or using words similar to what he said in his reply to Felicity's query.

"It's a law enforcement organization designed to keep an sharp eye on the events of history. This means being on alert for any changes in the timeline that they find critical. The Bureau has given us free reign to go flitting back and forward through time, as long as we didn't take any courses of action that could affect the timeline in a drastic manner."

All of a sudden Captain Fass found himself running out of questions to toy Elizabeth. He then decided to conclude the interview, so he had the Corellian officer escort her out of the room and have her sit outside the bench. "And bring the other captive. The little human female. No, include the other one as well." Then he muttered to himself, "I want to get this interview done away with."

As Elizabeth was escorted outside the captain's quarters, Nan and William were ushered in. The officer promptly left the room.

The captain observed the two little mites standing at attention. William was staring wide-eyed at the captain in a nearly rigid manner. Nan was standing in a ladylike fashion, putting her clasped arms below the middle area of her little body. Her eyes were briefly gazed at the captain as well, but remembering propriety she backed down her stair. 'Tis most improper to stare at someone, she remembered.

Suddenly an idea popped into the captain's head. For the sake of humorous amusement he decided to do something unconventional in the society in which both Nan and William lived in.

"I'm afraid that there's only one chair area, and none other seems to be present," declared Captain Fass in a silky tone of voice. "From what I can deduce from the timeline the female usually gets the privilege of having a seat offered by a male. However, I intend to do something…unusual. The female…" continued the captain, his gaze locked at Nan, "will stand up, or if she wishes, will sit on the floor, while the male will take the seat."

Nan felt a little disappointed with that arrangement. Captain Fass just simply ignored her, approached William and said softly, "Will you take the seat?"

"Oh, joy!" cried William in ecstasy. He rushed to the seat and plopped himself. Nan stayed where she are and glanced at William.

"Now, I will begin the interview. From what I can deduce from the memory logs, your names seem to be…" he pointed at Nan, who curtsied; "Nan" and then to little William "William. Am I correct?"

Both children nodded. Captain Fass could see Nan becoming disappointed with the rudeness of not having the boy offer the girl the seat. 'Tis so ungentlemanly, she thought to herself.

"Well, sit down, lady," commanded the captain. "On the floor."

Nan pleated the skirts of her gown and sat cross-legged on the floor in a ladylike fashion. William decided to take the opportunity to look down at his older sister as he sat on the chair.

Fortunately for Nan, she was quite used to sitting on the floor, given that she often sat on the floor while playing with her dolls.

Captain Fass continued the interview.

* * *

A/N: The italicized dialogue quoted for the memory logs of Ben, Felicity, and Elizabeth were taken from the _Felicity: An American Girl Adventure_ movie.


	5. Chapter 5

_**Star Trek: The Next Generation – Souvenirs**_

**Written By:**_** Commander Cody CC-2224**_

Author's Notes:

We now come to the last chapter that deals with the abduction of Felicity, along with her siblings and friends. Following on later chapters will be their rescue and their adventures aboard the _U.S.S. Enterprise_.

This chapter introduces us to the Borg, the most relentless enemy across the galaxy. No, this is not an alien species I made up. In the Star Trek universe, the Borg were first introduced initially in the Star Trek TNG episode _Q Who_. For more information about the Borg look up Memory Alpha, Star Trek's online Wikipedia.

The Borg are a species of cybernetic humanoid creatures, with the ability to adapt and improvise. They assimilate countless species, and grow even more threatening with each new conquest. They are a collective, with each drone linked to the hive mind, achieving the ultimate state of perfection, under the rule of a Borg Queen, which becomes replaced immediately if the Queen is decommissioned.

* * *

CHAPTER 5

The brig area was for the most part all quiet-like. During her confinement in the center brig, Felicity was seated at the center bench, looking pensive and moody. Her body leaned forward, supported by her arms, as her hands provided support by being held to her face. She was starting to feel terribly bored and restless while being cooped up in the brig. She thought of the circumstance of Captain Fass toying with her during her interview with him, and thought dreamily how Ben would never allow her to suffer even this slight insult to her honor and innocence.

Gradually Felicity began to feel drowsy, and after loosening her stays a little, she drifted off into her irresistibly charming beauty sleep, curling herself up like a little angel in her cream-colored gown, with her ginger red hair under her mobcap loose and flowing near her neck and back, and her head resting on the top of her left hand, which was clasped on the palm of her right hand. Her resting body faced the brig entrance. Outside the brig the Corellian guard couldn't resist staring at her while she slept. With a security camera mounted on the top right corner of the brig, perhaps even Captain Fass couldn't resist fixing his incessant gaze at her, too.

The guard was awakened from his incessant stare at Felicity when the Ben, Elizabeth, Nan, and William returned to the brig area. Immediately the guard disengaged the force field, and, when the rest of the children were herded back inside, reengaged them.

Inside the brig, William made a few attempts to wake Felicity from her deep slumber. Elizabeth, intending to surprise her friend, told William in a slightly audible whisper to not wake her up. While in a fit of muffled giggling, she motioned the rest of the children to group around the sleeping Felicity. In respective order around the sleeping Felicity were Ben, who stood at the left side of the bench, then Nan, William, and Elizabeth. Nan immediately noticed that Felicity's stays were slightly loosened, and was about make a remark on that when Elizabeth whispered "Shush" directly to her, with her right-hand index finger pointed vertically near her mouth.

An idea came to Ben's mind. He walked quietly to Elizabeth and whispered to her, "Elizabeth, what's the nickname you and Felicity use for your sister?"

"Bananabelle," replied Elizabeth, wondering what Ben had in mind. "Why"?

"You'll see." Ben walked back to the area where he was standing. He swiped Felicity's mobcap from her head and put it on. Then he stood straight with his arms crossed, and braced himself for a formal announcement that he knew would bring a sharp reaction to Felicity.

"Lissie? Lissie, girl. I have a formal announcement to make. To you," declared Ben in a confident tone of voice. His voice stirred Felicity slightly, though her drowsiness caused her to go back to sleep. "'Tis my pleasure to inform you that…" he looked at the rest of the children, who were silently waiting for what Ben was about to say. "…Bananabelle Cole fancies me, and _I_ have taken a fancy to her."

This statement was enough to wake Felicity in an abrupt manner, causing her to bolt upright from the bench. She was in complete shock, as she sat up wide-eyed and open-mouthed. As her heart began beating fast, she looked at her friends and siblings, who were grouped together around her, looking very much blasé for the first time. Then they started breaking into laughter.

"D-Dear God, tell me it isn't true," pleaded Felicity in a low voice. "Elizabeth, is…is it true? Has Ben really taken a fancy with Bananabelle?"

Elizabeth couldn't help herself giggling. "Is it true, Ben?" she asked, in the midst of laughter.

Ben steadied himself for a moment while glancing at Elizabeth, then turned to Felicity. "Nay," he replied.

Felicity heaved a sigh of relief, _Thank God_, she thought. _I was afraid Ben would forget me_. Then she frowned slightly at Ben.

"Benjamin Davidson, how could you make such a joke like that? You scared me out of my wits! And what are you doing with my cap?"

"My deeply sincere apologies, little Lissie," replied Ben in a slight sarcastic manner, as he took Felicity's mobcap off his head and gave it back to her. Felicity grabbed it from him and stuffed the cap on her head. "We were just curious about how you would react if I told you that," Ben added. Felicity bowed her head.

"…Though out of curiosity Lissie, what would have happened if I told you that I really did take a fancy to Annabelle Cole?"

This time Felicity looked up at Ben in the face and scowled at him. "I would berate you for doing such a thing, and cry unstoppably."

"Like a sissy? Wow, is that your way of getting what you want?."

Elizabeth suddenly stopped giggling, and hushed Nan and William. She stared at Ben with a solemn face. Felicity was on the verge of tears.

"Ben, don't rub it in," pleaded Elizabeth. "You have a girl from the family you are apprenticed to who has known you for a long time and loves you. If you take this too far…"

"All right, Lizzie, I get your point," interrupted Ben in an indignant tone of voice. Elizabeth remained silent.

Ben came closer to Felicity and brought his face close to hers. "Lissie? Lissie-girl?"

"What?" asked Felicity in a low voice that indicated despair, her head still hanging.

"To put it quite bluntly, I'm sorry for what I did to you. Given your reaction I realize now it was a terrible joke to play on you." He slid his arms around Felicity's body and picked her up slightly, embracing her like a child, and moved to the left corner of the brig. As he embraced her he patted her head and back a few times in a manly, brotherly fashion. Then he moved her body slightly away from himself, staring Felicity in the face. He could see that her emerald-green eyes were getting moist.

"Does that make you feel better now?" asked Ben, in a gentle tone.

"Aye," replied Felicity, slightly sniffling. Then she regained herself. "Oh, what am I doing? I'm acting like a sissy again. I'm not usually like that."

"You were just suddenly wakened, that's all. You all right?"

"I'm fine. I really shouldn't be crying over this. I'll try not to act like that again."

"Good girl."

Felicity got herself up slowly from the floor and came over to Elizabeth, who was near the other end of the brig, to discuss the interviews with Captain Fass. Both girls found it rather appealing to discuss them in slightly hushed tones.

"Are you all right, Lissie?" Elizabeth inquired, whispering.

Felicity nodded.

"From the looks on your face while we were waiting outside, you seemed to be in a bit of a spot when you were interviewed by that strange-looking man."

"Aye," replied Felicity. "It seemed that the captain was toying with me."

"So what got you back to the brig, Lissie? The four of us usually waited outside."

"I was resisting the captain." Felicity looked around the brig to make sure that no one was too close to them to hear what she was about to say to her friend. To her relief, that wasn't the case. Nan and William were seated on the floor in the middle part of the brig, playing a game involving a variation of hand movements they learned ever since they were little. Ben just sat leaning on the left corner of the brig, twiddling his thumbs at the guard positioned near the right side entrance of the brig.

"Like, for example, do you know what he did?" Felicity continued in a hushed tone of voice. "Aside from touching my lips and slapping my face in an offensive manner, he tried to touch me in here." She pointed to her left area of her bosom, the place where Capt. Fass tried to get his hand on before she slapped it away.

Elizabeth reacted with a muffled gasp, and she placed her hand on her mouth. "Did he really?" she inquired in a surprised tone of voice.

"Aye," replied Felicity, seriously. "It was a terribly offensive thing he could do to me that my reaction was to slap his hand away from my bosom and scold him."

Elizabeth gasped in horror. "Lissie! That was a most audacious thing you could ever do! And him being a person of high authority…" She broke off. She didn't know what else she could say.

"Well…" rejoined Felicity, with an attitude indicating that she didn't care about what she did. Elizabeth just simply smiled at her friend, commenting inside her head about how brave Felicity could ever be to protect her honor.

The moment was interrupted when Nan grabbed Felicity's right arm. "Lissie, can you play with me?"

Felicity sighed. "I-I'm not in the mood, Nan."

But Nan wouldn't give up. "Please, Lissie?", she pleaded. Felicity stared at her younger sister. "Pretty please?"

"Oh, all right," replied Felicity in exasperation. Felicity scampered with Nan to the central area of the cell, where William was. Elizabeth, not knowing what else to do, walked in a slightly ladylike fashion to where Felicity and her siblings were.

The girls, including little William, were grouped together in a circle.

* * *

On the bridge of the Corellian Science Vessel _K'Tan_…

30 light years from the Corellian Sector

1025 hours

The Corellian Science Vessel _K'Tan_ continued cruising at maximum warp to the Corellian Sector. The bridge was usually buzzing with quiet activity. Capt. Fass stood near the view-screen, staring into the starry, white-dashed blackness of space that was speeding past his eyes. His moment of meditation was interrupted when the Corellian officer arrived at the bridge. In a steady pace Fass turned around.

"Captain, the colonial captives are already returned to the brig area on Deck 5."

"Very good, Jum'A. At 1100 hours, take them out of the brig so they can have a bite to eat in the cafeteria. I fear they might start getting hungry later on. We don't want to starve our guests, do we?"

"Very well, Captain."

Capt. Fass turned his face back to the dizzying view-screen. "It's funny, isn't it," he remarked with a ponderous look in his face. "The idea of capturing children 18th century colonial America."

"I need not remind you, sir, that this isn't the first time in our lives," replied the Corellian officer. "We performed analysis on other humans from different eras, mostly the minor characters in history, of course."

"Do recall."

"For example, we studied a male individual who happened to be an acquaintance to the prominent British author C.S. Lewis."

"Mm. He could so accurately describe the facial features of Lewis himself. Methinks he was our only link, since we couldn't take Lewis out of his timeline without seriously altering Earth history."

"And then we studied a schoolboy from the 1950's. Complained incessantly he was abducted by aliens."

"Ah. That crazed mania about the possibility of aliens living among the earthlings," Fass remarked in the midst of genial laughter.

"Then there was also a girl from the early 21th century named Chrissa Maxwell. She spilled out her life story about how she was bullied by three girls and managed to duke it out with them."

"In violence? That might win the headlines."

"Well, it was more of tricks, probably. Female earthlings tend to engage in that. In general their high levels of serotonin just seem to prevent them from doing the kinds of things that most males do."

"Yet that did not seem to be the case when I interviewed the feisty red-haired female." Fass was referring to Felicity.

"She's a different one, Captain. By what I've seen since you asked me to take her back to the brig immediately after you interviewed her, that earthling's got spunk and sprite, and mark my word, she won't stand for any wrongdoing done to her or her friends."

"Nevertheless, I find her so damn near attractive, even for an 11-year-old."

The officer looked at Fass with an air of suspicion. "Since when did you get so damn interested with little girls, Captain?"

"I don't know. She's from the colonial period, and colonial girls usually retain some sense of propriety within themselves. She's naturally pretty; doesn't require a lot of this awful makeup we see in the 21st century, and this century as well."

"Well, I don't know about you, Captain, but you'll eventually get your chance to see her and ogle her whenever you want. You might want to avoid overdoing when it comes to gaining her trust. She has feelings for the male captive."

The captain sighed. "I'll bear that in mind."

The Corellian officer had an idea. "You won't mind if I hang out in your ready room for a while?"

Fass heaved a sigh. "Go ahead."

The officer immediately left the bridge and headed to the captain's ready room.

Nearly a minute later a resonant male voice blared. It was the ship's computer voice.

"TACTICAL ALERT. TWO VESSELS AT SIX O'CLOCK, APPROACHING OFF THE CENTRAL STERN."

"On screen," commanded Capt. Fass.

The view-screen switched from forward view to backward view. On the vessel's behind were two small speck too far to make out.

"Magnify."

The main viewer magnified the specks. Fear crept into the captain.

It was the Borg!

"Borg vessels, no doubt," remarked Fass, shuddering slightly. "What is the current warp status of the Borg cubes?"

"Warp 10, sir," replied one of the Corellian crew personnel in the analysis section of the circular bridge.

"Increase to warp 11."

The helmsmen increased the K'Tan's engines to that particular warp speed.

"The Borg vessels have matched velocity," one of the helmsmen said.

"Continue at present course and speed."

"Shall we ready weapons?" inquired the port helmsman.

"No. We don't want to give the Borg an incentive to target us. Are the temporal shields still engaged?"

"Affirmative, sir."

Suddenly there was an abrupt shake. Capt. Fass was now looking and acting tenser than ever.

"What the hell was that?"

"One of the Borg cubes have fired a single gravimetric torpedo on the dorsal area. Temporal shields still holding."

The lead Borg cube emitted a green jet that touched the Corellian vessel.

"Our temporal shields are being drained, Captain," informed the tactical officer. "90%…50%…20%…"

"That bloody fast?" rejoined Fass.

"Temporal shields drained completely. We are now on deflector shields only."

"Damn! Now it's a matter of time before they drain those bloody shields as well! Ready the polaron torpedoes and aft disruptors!"

The tactical officer got busy tapping several touch-buttons on the tactical scanning console. "Torpedoes and disruptors ready, Captain."

"Fire!"

Four large green dots were launched from the stern section of the Corellian vessel. It was soon followed by a blue disruptor beam that penetrated the lower part of the lead cube's hull. The polaron torpedoes impacted on the same area as that of the Corellian disruptor beam.

"Moderate damage to the lead cube," reported the tactical officer.

The secondary Borg cube fired 3 gravimetric torpedoes which impacted on the engineering section of the Corellian vessel. On the front view of the vessel's view-screen, the flowing white line dashes disappeared. From top view, as the Borg cubes and the Corellian vessel sped in sync, the vessel was the first to come to a grinding halt as the Borg cubes sped past it. The cubes dropped out of warp seconds after the Corellian vessel lost its functionality of the warp engines.

"Report!" demanded Fass.

"The secondary Borg cube has disabled the warp drive with three shots. We are now on impulse power only. And we've lost the cloak."

The Borg cubes inched closer to the Corellian vessel.

"Borg cubes now approximately 80 meters from our position," informed the port helmsman.

Then came the unified voice of the Borg.

"We-are-the-Borg. Lower-your-shields-and-surrender-your-ship-and-your-human-specimens. We-will-add-your-biological-and-technological-distinctiveness-to-our-own,-and-that-of-the-humans. Your-culture-and-their-culture-will-adapt-to-service-us. Resistance-is-futile."

"Hell, no," responded Capt. Fass in frustration. Immediately the Borg emitted a green laser beam against the shields of the Corellian vessel.

"Captain, they're trying to drain our deflector shields!" informed the tactical officer.

"Red alert!" ordered Fass. "All hands, man your stations!" Around the bridge the siren-like wail sounded. Then the red lights around the wall panels blared and blinked.

Across the interior of the Corellian vessel, the wall panels and lights came on and started blinking, giving an undeniable impression of a state of utmost emergency. In the lounge, Corellian personnel were alerted to the sounds of the ships public address system, blaring in a resonant deep voice "General Quarters, General Quarters". A siren sound blared as well.

In the brig section, Felicity, her siblings, and her friends were awakened by the hubbub and blaring red lights around them. She, along with the rest of them, started to have tense feelings.

"What's that all about?" queried Ben.

Felicity and Elizabeth were too startled to answer. Nan and William stood in the middle section of the cell, dismayed.

Near the engineering section, Corellian personnel unlocked and opened the wall-based panel safes and grabbed their disruptor rifles and pistols in haste.

In the main bridge of the Corellian science vessel, almost everything was in a flurry of hasty activity. Three earthquake-like shakes could be felt across the starship.

"Deflector shields at 90%!" called out the tactical officer.

The bridge personnel could see on the main viewer the secondary Borg cube emit another green jet emanating from the middle part of the hull. The jet impacted on the vessel.

"Deflector shields are being drained!"

"They are draining our shields so the Borg drones can board the ship!" Fass remarked in a mixture of anger and fright. He turned to the Corellian officer, the one in charge of the children's custody. "Jum'A, get our guests out of the brig and into the shuttlecraft! Stow them in the cryo-tubes! And on your way to the hangar collect the hard drives from my quarters and stow them into the shuttlecraft as well. Make haste, while there's still time!"

"Sir," replied the officer in a curt manner. The officer immediately left the bridge in haste.

The captain hurried over to the ship's tactical officer. "Prepare a complement of disruptors and torpedoes and send everything we've got on my mark!" commanded Fass. The tactical officer pressed the touch-buttons with alacrity like a piano player.

"Weapons ready sir," informed the officer.

"Fire at will!"

The Corellian vessel fired a complement of blue disruptor beams and polaron torpedoes at the secondary cube. The volley impacted on the Borg vessel.

"Moderate damage to the secondary cube."

The secondary Borg cube unleashed the same green jet that drained the shields of the Corellian vessel.

"They're draining our shields again," informed the starboard helmsman. "Shields down to 50%

"Ready another round," commanded Fass.

It took a few seconds for the tactical officer to prepare another complement. "Ready."

"Fire."

Another complement of disruptor beams and torpedoes were fired from the vessel. This time the volley had no effect. The ordnance just imply impacted on a surrounding force-field that the cube was generating.

"They've adapted."

"Damn!"

Two audible beeps were heard on the bridge. "WARNING. INTRUDER ALERT."

"The Borg!" cried Fass. He knew this to be the Borg materializing on the lower decks of the vessel.

Suddenly four Borg drones materialized on the bridge. Fass immediately took out his sidearm, a hand-held Corellian disruptor, and fired at one of the drones in the torso area. The drone had his circuits busted, indicated by the electrical sparks gushing from its body, and staggered to the floor. The helmsmen drew their disruptors and took out the other two drones successfully. The tactical officer was not so lucky when he drew his disruptor to deal with the fourth drone, who adapted to the laser weapons. So he unsheathed his combat knife, slashed the drone's throat area and plunged the knife into its torso area. The officer drew out his knife and threw the decommissioned drone aside.

Capt. Fass regained his composure. "Computer, initiate self-destruct sequence on my mark. Authorization: Fass, 7-9-India-Charlie."

"SELF-DESTRUCT STANDING BY," replied the computer in the usual deep resonant male voice. "AWAITING ORDER CONFIRMATION FROM SENIOR OFFICER'S I.D. CARD AND THUMBPRINT."

Fass approached the bridge terminal computers, where the self-destruct computer's slot was. He inserted the card and the confirmation took place. Then he placed his thumbprint on a small, 1-inch circle outline on the LCD.

"SELF-DESTRUCT SEQUENCE CONFIRMED. SELF-DESTRUCT WILL INITIATE IN FIFTEEN MINUTES."

"Into the escape pods! Let's go!" ordered Fass. The bridge personnel, being a small number, scrambled and squeezed into the turbolift, making their descent to the lower decks.

* * *

Meanwhile, in the brig area Felicity, Nan, William, Ben, and Elizabeth were steeped in anxiety over the commotion they were overhearing across the deck levels. Their bewilderment was broken when the Corellian officer in charge of their custody arrived. He was carrying his hand-held disruptor pistol in his right hand, and toted a backpack filled with the hard drives containing the memory logs of the children he had collected from Captain Fass's quarters, as well as Fass's personal computer, in case someone had to review the logs if there was no other device at hand. His face had an extremely tense and fearful look.

"Disengage the force field," commanded the officer gruffly. The guard removed the force field with alacrity, leaving the way clear for the children to step out, but under the watchful eyes of the officer and the guard.

Get that camera and stow it into my backpack," ordered the officer. The guard carefully pried the camera from the top right corner of the brig and stuffed it into the backpack.

"Might you tell me what's going on?" asked Ben.

"Do not ask questions!" commanded the officer. "The vessel has been invaded by a relentless enemy. We must get you off this vessel ASAP. Make haste." The officer herded the children out of the cell in a hurry.

"Pardon me, sir, but what is this relentless enemy…"

"No questions!" snapped the officer. He turned to the guard. "You're with me."

The officer and guard scurried the children out of the brig area. As they were rushing through a corridor, a voice on the PA was heard. It was the computer.

"ATTENTION, ALL PERSONNEL. THE SELF-DESTRUCT SEQUENCE HAS BEEN INITIATED. SELF-DESTRUCT SEQUENCE WILL COMMENCE IN FIFTEEN MINUTES."

"Just when I thought things couldn't get a little more worse," grumbled the Corellian officer.

Two Borg drones materialized in the middle of their path. The officer fired at the drone on his left and got knocked silly, with his electrical parts spewing sparks from the middle of his body. The guard aimed his disruptor rifle at the other drone and fired a direct energy beam at him. He, too, was also put out of commission with swift efficiency.

As the group passed the corridors the could witness other Corellian crew members fighting the Borg, both with disruptors and hand-to-hand combat. They got slightly distracted when they saw a crewman that was helplessly undergoing a Borg assimilation process, which was indicated by the eerie black lines going across his face and his hands. The officer had no choice but to put him out of his misery. He shot him, and the poor individual was left completely for dead. The children, especially Felicity and Elizabeth, were completely dismayed by what the officer had done.

The group passed several corridors and junctions until they came to the vessel's main hangar. Because the vessel was fairly huge, it took several minutes for them to find the hanger, as they had to cross several corridors to reach it, which now became a battleground between invading Borg drones and resisting Corellian crew. The officer inserted his keycard and inputted a 5-digit code comprising of bizarre Corellian alphabet characters. Two Borg drones approached the group when the guard fired his disruptor at them with no effect.

"They've adapted, commander!" shouted the guard.

Then came the ominous voice of the computer. "WARNING. SELF DESTRUCT WILL INITIATE IN TEN MINUTES."

The officer managed to open the hangar entrance just in time before the drones got to close to the group. They rushed the children inside, shut the sliding doors, and sealed them with the disruptor beams.

The children were in awe, but only for a brief moment, as they were being pushed in a hurried fashion to one of the shuttlecraft. The hanger was fairly huge, spanning forty meters in length. A few huge and sleek shuttlecraft painted in violet were parked in single file, and were nearly eight meters in length and seven meters in the width. The officer pushed the children into the rear end of the shuttlecraft parked in the middle of the hangar while the guard hastened to a console that had one of the controls used to open the shuttle bay doors. When the bay doors were opened the guard hurried to the shuttlecraft.

The inside of the shuttlecraft was fairly roomy. The cargo area was filled with five cylindrical cryo-tubes lined up in a single neat row. The officer and guard immediately opened the tubes and stowed each of the children into them like stuffed animals. Then the officer rushed to one of the panel cabinets and took out a pistol-like hypospray and a vial containing a sedative, which he inserted into the device. Starting with eldest child, he placed the pointed hypospray barrel on Ben's neck area and injected the sedative, thus rendering him unconscious and fully asleep. Then he did the same to Felicity, Elizabeth, Nan, and William. When the officer finished putting the children to sleep, he ordered the guard to seal the tubes. When the guard sealed them all, a tamper-proof locking mechanism was engaged, followed by an audible jolt.

A violent banging on the hanger doors was heard. The officer and the guard knew that it was Borg attempting to break in.

"You go, I'll hold them off," said the guard, as he stepped out of the craft and readied his disruptor rifle.

The officer powered up the shuttlecraft and lifted it off its parking space. Before it could speed out of the hangar several Borg drones managed to break through the interior hangar entrance. Even if he knew it was terribly futile, the guard kept firing at the drones with his disruptor rifle, again with no effect, since the drones managed to adapt to every modulation of their weapons. The shuttle sped out of the hanger, moments before the unfortunate guard got assimilated. His last action was to arm a plasma grenade, which killed him, taking alongside a few other drones as well.

On board the bridge of the lead cube a Borg Queen witnessed the Corellian shuttlecraft speeding past their sight. The status of the craft was recited in by the unified voices of the Borg.

"Corellian-shuttlecraft-detected. Location: Spatial-grid-0-0-9. Complementary: Six-life-forms-on-board. We-will-pursue-and-assimilate."

In the shuttlecraft the Corellian officer got himself busy on the dashboard computer, attempting to set a course for the nearest Corellian secret outpost in the Viridian Sector. His attempts were interrupted when he felt a shake. The Borg (as usual) were draining the shuttlecraft's shields.

"Damn!" he exclaimed, frustrated. Feeling tense, he pulled out his disruptor pistol.

Seconds later three Borg drones materialized on board. He opened fire at the drone in front of the other, but to no avail. He tapped his combadge and gave the craft's onboard computer a command.

"Computer, initiate lockdown procedure! Level One!"

An audible beep of acknowledgement emanated from the speakers. "COMMAND CONFIRMED. LEVEL ONE SECURITY MEASURES INITIATED."

On two shipboard replicators a single ball materialized, equipped with an ultra-powerful direct-energy pale-blue disruptor beam. Two Borg drone was shot, but the other drone adapted. Without hesitation the drone protracted his assimilation tubules and spiked them into the officer's neck area. The officer was stunned, and eerie black lines were crawling all over his veins. The drone proceeded to the cargo hold, where the 5 cryo-tubes were.

The officer still had his individuality intact, but not for long. He gave his last order to the computer.

"Computer, initiate the Level Two Security measures," he ordered, weakly.

The speakers emanated the same audible beeps. "COMMAND CONFIRMED. LEVEL TWO SECURITY MEASURES INITIATED."

Now the shuttlecraft's onboard computers took over. It automatically engaged force-fields around the passenger area and set up a dampening field around the exterior of the craft to prevent beaming. Then the computer activated a system which released Sentox nerve gas from the ceiling vents into the passenger area. The Corellian officer felt himself twitching involuntarily before he passed out. The Borg started feeling his neural transmitters shutting down and his circuitry busting and shooting electrical sparks. He started going into involuntary twitching and rapid convulsions before crumpling to the floor, dead.

When the computer scanned the area for further active life forms, it flushed the nerve gas out of the passenger area and disengaged the force-fields and dampening fields. (Fortunately the sleeping beauties inside the cryo-tubes survived because of the advanced sealing system on the tubes and the surrounding force-fields that protect the cargo from the elements, and because the nerve gas was confined only to the passenger area.)

The computer now piloted the shuttle to the coordinates initially inputted by the Corellian officer.

* * *

A/N (1): I apologize for the delay of this chapter. I am currently caught up (as usual) in the business catching up with my homework. Then there is the writer's block, as well as the necessity to have most of the aspects of this story make some sense. I usually proof-reed, improve, and update my work before posting it on this website. I'm a nut on neatness.

A/N (2): Chrissa Maxwell is a new American Girl character, one of the most recent (c.f. ).

A/N (3): Gravimetric torpedoes are a type of Borg weapon. It is equipped with the capability of emitting a complex phase variance of gravitons to create a gravimetric distortion capable of tearing ships apart. (c.f. List of Star Trek Weapons)

A/N (4): Polaron torpedos were originally a type of weapon used by the Domininion. This type of ordnance is capable of penetrating most normal shielding with ease. (c.f. , List of Star Trek Weapons). In this story, the Corellians might have found a way to obtain one surreptitiously and copy its design functions.

Please review and rate this chapter, as well as the previous four chapters! Any feedback on the chapters covering the abduction of Felicity, her siblings, and her friends will be greatly appreciated, whether they comprise of praise or constructive criticism. (For Felicity Fans: post any advice you have on how to make the dialogue more interesting and engaging, as well as the psychological aspects of the characters. For Star Trek Fans: post any advice you have on any technical knowledge pertaining to the Star Trek universe, especially on any parts which deal with some aspects on physics, chemistry, and computer engineering. I'll consider any suggestions you might have.) I try to make things as fairly realistic as possibility allows in the Star Trek universe.


	6. Chapter 6

_**Star Trek: The Next Generation – Souvenirs**_

**Written By:**_** Commander Cody CC-2224**_

Author's Notes:

The 2nd part of the Star Trek TNG and Felicity: An American Girl adventure begins! Felicity, Nan, William, Ben, and Elizabeth are now on the Federation Starship U.S.S. Enterprise (NCC-1701-D). They have a whole new world to explore and new friends to meet on board once they're out of the cryo-tubes. But when they gradually start feeling mesmerized by the technology on board, they, especially Ben and Felicity, who have to think of what's best for all of them, start having conflicts of whether they should stay in the 24th century or return back to their own 18th century timeline. Will they choose living among the creature comforts of the 24th century or return to the 18th century to be with their families and friends?

Disclaimer: As previously stated, I do not own any of the _Star Trek: The Next Generation_ characters, or any of the _Felicity: An American Girl_ characters.

* * *

CHAPTER 6

On board the Corellian shuttlecraft…

April 11, 2370 A.D.

1135 hours

Commander Riker, Commander La Forge, Lt. Commander Data, and Chief Medical Officer Dr. Crusher encircled the neatly lined row of cryo-tubes in the Corellian shuttlecraft's cargo bay.

La Forge was busy peering intently into the tube where William was fast asleep. "Kids in colonial costumes?" he asked skeptically.

Data was busy doing further scanning with his tricorder. "The clothing appears to be European in origin. The style dates back to the late 18th century."

"I'd be convinced that these kids are the ones described in the Colonial Williamsburg inhabitant manifest," put in Riker. "But there seems to be a strong possibility that those kids might have come from a different era in time, and someone dressed them up in these fancy costumes."

La Forge immediately gave an alert glance at Riker. "Oh, I see," he declared. "So you're saying that those kids might have come from, let's say, the era before Christ, or somewhere in the 24th century, and they got clad into these stylish outfits before being stuffed into these cryo-tubes?"

"That's right," replied Riker in a curt manner. He turned to Data, who was analyzing the readings of his tricorder. "Mr. Data, your opinion?"

Data looked at Riker. "That is a possibility," he replied in a non-emotional tone of voice, as was his penchant. "However, we can rule out the idea of these individuals originating from a time period earlier than that of the 1700's."

"What makes you so sure about that?"

Data scanned his tricorder. "The pigmentation of the skin would appropriately belong to a taxonomical category pertaining to a human species of Anglo-Norman origin. However, the tricorder readings indicate a body build that would not have been physically possible in Earth's Medieval Period. In addition, the exposed areas of the body, such as the head and arms, are clean, which means that these individuals belong to a type of European gentry, and that a method of personal hygiene not possible in the Medieval Period or in the 16th century was used. Therefore we can conclude for the moment that these individuals might have originated from a time period roughly between the 17th century and the 24th century after the birth of Christ."

Data attempted to continue scanning the sleeping beauties with the tricorder, but was somewhat impeded in his attempts. "Unfortunately I will not be able to continue further scanning on the individuals unless there's a way to extract them from the cryo-tubes."

"Geordi, is there a way we can manually extract these sleeping beauties from those transparent coffin boxes?"

"Negative, sir," replied La Forge, busying himself with his tricorder and analyzing the nooks, crannies, and complex locking mechanisms of the tubes. "The tubes are surrounded by an external force field and equipped with a tamper-proof security mechanism."

Riker felt pensive for a moment. Seconds later an audible beep was heard on his combadge.

"Bridge to Commander Riker." It was Capt. Picard's voice.

Riker tapped his combadge, and another beep was heard. "Go ahead."

"What's your progress with the life forms?"

"We've identified the life forms, Captain. They appear to be children dressed in 18th century costumes. Unfortunately we are unable to manually extract them from the cryo-tubes."

"Would it be possible to attempt beaming the survivors directly out of the tubes?"

Riker turned to La Forge. "Geordi?"

La Forge shook his head. "Negative. The tubes seem to be equipped with some kind of transport inhibitor attached to the interior. I'm guessing that must have been one of their security measures to prevent their cargo from getting stolen surreptitiously."

Riker continued to speak to the captain on his combadge. "I guess that's a no, Captain."

"Very well. We'll proceed with transporting the cryo-tubes, including you and the rest of the away team out of the shuttlecraft one at a time. After that we'll attempt to retrieve the craft into the hangar bay. Picard out."

In a few moments, the search party was beamed out first. Then followed the 5 cryo-tubes with the sleeping children were beamed out of the Corellian shuttlecraft.

In the _Enterprise_'s transporter room, the away team was beamed back. Transporter Chief Miles O'Brien, who was mainly responsible for the beaming procedure, was given the order by Riker to proceed with transporting the cryo-tubes on board.

"Okay, Mr. O'Brien. Proceed with transporting the goods on board."

"Aye, sir," replied O'Brien in his genial British accent. He pressed a few touch-buttons on the transporter control computer. The tubes materialized on the transporter pad. O'Brien was at odds to know what the hell was in those bizarre-looking tubes.

"Cryo-tubes with sleeping beauties," Commander Riker answered O'Brien, who made a query of the goods seconds after the beaming procedure. "We'll discuss more of this later. In the meantime inform the captain that we have the packages on board. And ask some of the crew to assist us in toting the goods to the shuttle bay."

"Very good, sir." O'Brien immediately alerted the Bridge. The away team lifted one of the tubes on a flatbed cart and proceeded to haul it to the shuttle bay.

On the Bridge Capt. Picard was informed by O'Brien that the cryo-tubes and the away team were back on board.

"Well done, Mr. O'Brien. Picard out."

Picard then turned to Worf, who was monitoring the tactical scanners. "Mr. Worf, alert the shuttlebay to prepare for the retrieval procedure of the alien shuttlecraft."

"Aye, Captain."

* * *

The shuttlecraft on board the _Enterprise_ was fairly huge. The size of a warehouse, it spanned nearly 150 ft. in both length and width. Facing the man entrance to the shuttle bay was a huge garage door, with a force field behind it. On each side were three tractor beam controls used to park an incoming shuttle in a neat manner.

A female voice on the P.A. blared. "Attention, all shuttle bay personnel. Stand by for retrieval procedure of shuttlecraft retrieval."

The hangar door slid open slowly upward. Gradually the Corellian shuttlecraft with the green tractor beam attached was leisurely inching its way into the hangar. When the shuttlecraft was towed a few meters distance of the main entrance, the interior tractor beam controls engaged one at a time, and the main tractor beam disengaged. It was an awesome sight, seeing the shuttlecraft penetrating the force field. When the craft was completely inside the hangar, the main entrance door slid slowly downward, sealing itself. The blue tractor beams parked the craft neatly in the center of the hangar bay.

Minutes later the man entrance sliding doors opened in entered Riker, Data, La Forge, and Dr. Crusher, along with the five cryo-tubes. Then entered Capt. Picard.

"The key to opening these cryo-tubes lies in this alien vessel. La Forge, can you find a way to open the entrance doors without damaging it?"

"I'll try, Captain." La Forge, finding a lever, pulled it and the shuttlecraft entrance and a ramp extracted at a moderate speed from the bottom slots. He entered the craft first, and was followed seconds later by Data and Dr. Crusher.

When the four happened upon the cockpit section, they took notice of the three Borg drones and the dead Corellian officer. The trio, suspecting that the alien officer held the key to unlocking the cryo-tubes, decided to strip-search him. Fortunately it didn't take very long for them to find it, or rather, them. For the officer bore not just one key but five, along with five keycards for each of the tubes that held a 16-character password. The four retrieved these items and emerged from the shuttlecraft.

"We managed to find what we were hoping to look for," assured Riker.

"Very well, Commander," replied Picard. "You may proceed with unlocking the cryo-tubes."

Data, aware that the situation of opening the cryo-tubes was somewhat risky, decided to intervene. "Captain, allow me to unlock the tubes," he requested. "As an android it would be less likely for me to make a mistake, given the possibility of a serious glitch in the security systems."

Picard looked pensive for a moment. Then he consented.

"All right, Data. We'll leave you to unlock the tubes."

The senior officers watched anxiously as Data mused around the cryo-tubes, trying to decide which one he should start first.

"The conventional rule is usually 'women and children first', Mr. Data," informed Riker.

"I take it as an allusion to Captain Smith of the _R.M.S. Titanic_," replied Data. He paused for a moment. "Very well, then. I'll start with the eldest female child."

He approached the cryo-tube containing the sleeping Felicity. Finding a covering on the middle of the tube, he slid it open to the right. It revealed a keyhole. Data slowly inserted the key. A small screen lit up with a password prompt in the Corellian language. He took out the keycard with the password, and scanning carefully, he carefully entered the 16-character password. The small LCD screen lit up, indicating a positive result, and the cryo-tube locking mechanism automatically disengaged. There was a slight hiss, indicating that the tubes were decompressing. Then the cylindrical lid opened automatically to a 90-degree position.

Data proceeded to use the same procedure to extract the rest of the children. He managed to carefully unlock the cryo-tubes of Elizabeth, Nan, William, and Ben, in that respective order. The entire process took nearly fifteen minutes.

"The unlocking procedure is complete, Captain."

Picard gave a nod of approval to Data. "Well done." He then turned to Dr. Crusher. "Doctor, have our rescued guests carried to the medical bay."

"Yes, sir." Dr. Crusher tapped her combadge. "Dr. Crusher to sickbay. Requesting medical team to the shuttlecraft hangar, with five flatbed stretchers."

While Picard and the rest of the senior officers were locked in discussion about the colonial children, Dr. Crusher decided to examine them further. As she touched the children's clothes faces, she noticed that they were chilled, due to the internal environment of the cryo-tubes. The tricorder readings indicated that they were injected with a type of sedative that could keep them asleep for several hours.

Nearly five minutes later a medical team with the flatbed stretchers arrived to the hanger in a prompt manner. The medical personnel carefully placed each of the sleeping children on one of the stretchers. Then Dr. Crusher and the personnel dispatched from the hangar and moved the stretchers with the sleeping children to the sickbay.

* * *

In the sickbay, Dr. Crusher and the medical personnel lifted the sleeping beauties off the stretchers and placed each of them on one of the mechanical beds.

"Nurse, get some thermal overcoats," she requested to Nurse Ogawa, the Japanese doctor, who was nearby, doing further scanning on Ben with her tricorder. "One size 16, two size 12's, one size 9 and one size 6."

Closing her tricorder, Ogawa opened one of the panel closets and brought out the requested thermal nightgowns of different sizes. Dr. Crusher knew that if the children weren't changed into something warm they could suffer or die from pneumonia because their clothes were kind of wet and chilled from the water molecules that accumulated on their surfaces.

Ogawa lifted the sleeping Ben and carefully took off his chilled coat and shirt as a young crewman took off his black buckled shoes, stockings, and breeches. Then the nurse clad Ben in the size-16 thermal gown and docked the thermal blankets on his body.

Dr. Crusher assigned another nurse to tend to Felicity, Nan, and William while she worked to extract the slightly damp and chilled clothes from Elizabeth, given that her body was in a rather delicate condition than Felicity's. The doctor managed to unlace the stays of Felicity's gown, and showed the nurse how to do the same thing with Elizabeth's. Once the attachments of the gowns were removed, Dr. Crusher moved to the sickbed where Elizabeth was positioned and assisted in removing her mobcap, gown, and upper undergarment while the nurse removed Elizabeth's shoes, as well as the lower part of her undergarment. Carefully the doctors clad the thermal gown on the Elizabeth, fluffed the pillows, positioned the blonde-haired sleeping beauty on the bed and docked the thermal blankets on top of her body.

The Chief Medical Officer decided to check on the progress made in extracting the clammy colonial outfits from Felicity and her siblings. two nurses managed to remove Felicity's cap, gown, undergarments, and shoes in roughly the same manner as Dr. Crusher and her assistant did with Elizabeth, put on the thermal garment and cover the redheaded sleeping beauty with the thermal blanket. Ogawa assisted with removing Nan's clothes, cladding her with the thermal garments, and spreading a thermal blanket on her. Dr. Crusher assisted with the same procedure with William, which took at least two minutes.

The procedure was complete. Each of the children were fast asleep in an upright position on one of the patients' mechanical beds, with their thermal blankets covering each of the children's entire part of body, save for the head. The girls' long hair flowed freely, and so did Ben's. An LCD computer screen was hooked on top each of the beds, monitoring their body conditions, such as their temperature and heartbeat rates.

It was only a matter of time when the children would wake up from their hibernated state of torpor.

* * *

A/N: Most of what I put in the story about the subject of cryo-stasis is based on some things that I learned in my physical science courses, as well as some aspects I learned from some of the episodes on _Star Trek: The Next Generation_. My general impression of cryo-stasis is that the individual is kept in a state of hibernation in a chilled tube or "quadrilateralized" coffin box set at a certain temperature a few degrees above 0º C. In other words, being cooped up in a cryo-tube is like being cooped up in a refrigerator. In essence, cryo-tubes are refrigerators for preserving individuals in a state of torpor. While in stasis, there is very little activity going on in the body. If any of you readers and reviewers have any further info on the subject of cryo-stasis, please post it in your reviews. Any info on that subject will be greatly appreciated, as it will allow me to enhance the story situations to make it fairly realistic in the realm of sci-fi.

I feel I may have rushed this chapter, as I was getting rather anxious to start writing the stuff about Felicity's adventures on board the _Enterprise_. I might consider updating this chapter further if I learn more stuff about the schematics of a Galaxy-Class starship, as well as the technology pertaining to cryo-stasis.


	7. Chapter 7

_**Star Trek: The Next Generation – Souvenirs**_

**Written By:**_** Commander Cody CC-2224**_

CHAPTER 7

In the main sickbay, Dr. Crusher kept her eyes on the sleeping children like a watchful hawk. Her eyes were also on the monitors that kept track of their heartbeat rates and body temperatures.

Looking at Ben reminded Dr. Crusher of her teenage son Wesley, who left the _Enterprise_ and his career in Starfleet to become a little deity on the planet Dorvan V, under the influence of the Traveler, who sort of assisted him in finding his true destiny. Of course Wes's hair was slightly darker than that of Ben's. Wes had a tendency of being brash overconfident, just as Ben often did, though that would be found out later once Ben woke up from his hibernation slumber.

Then of course there was little William and the rest of the sleeping beauties. William was fast asleep, his handsome peach-colored face as radiant as the fluorescent lights illuminating the sickbay. The same could be made with the girls' faces as well. With the girls' mobcaps removed, their long flowing hair could be seen running freely down their heads. Felicity's hair was a little disheveled, and so was Nan's and Elizabeth's. If the girls woke up in that state, they would (sort of) start feeling ashamed of their immodesty, as having uncovered hair would have gone against the conventions of modesty back in their timeline.

The sickbay doors opened and in surged Miles O'Brien. At this point he was on afternoon break, and he wanted to satisfy his curiosity about the contents of the cryo-tubes. He was informed by Commander Riker that their time-traveling guests were in the main sickbay, so he decided take a sneak peek.

"Hi," greeted Dr. Crusher.

"Hi," returned O'Brien. "Did I miss anything?"

"You just missed the part where the senior officers were working to extract our five guests from the cryo-tubes. The sickbay personnel just brought them here half an hour ago."

"Oh. Because when I asked Commander Riker about the contents of these bizarre tubes beamed from an alien shuttlecraft, he replied, 'Cryo-tubes with sleeping beauties.'" He took a cursory glance the sleeping children. "And these people, they were the ones extracted from those tubes?"

"Yes, that's right."

O'Brien found himself a little too attracted to them that he stood wide-eyed and slightly open-mouthed. "They're like little angels," he remarked. "They nearly remind me of my little girl when she's sound asleep." He was referring to his little girl Molly O'Brien, who was half-Japanese, half-British, since he was married to a strikingly beautiful Japanese woman by the name of Keiko.

"The captain says that they might be children taken from time," informed Dr. Crusher. "But we can't know for sure unless we personally interview them. Mr. La Forge has just retrieved a backpack containing devices from the alien shuttlecraft that might help us find out about these children; possibly personal logs concerning them and how they managed to get into this timeline. You might consider taking a peek at Engineering; Data and La Forge say they will attempt to upload them to their tricorders."

"Riiiight," O'Brien replied slowly, as if the very idea sounded odd to him. "Very well, then. I'll go take a look in the Engineering section."

"Don't worry," assured Dr. Crusher. "We'll call you when they wake up."

"All right, Doctor."

O'Brien smiled a little, turned his back, and promptly left the sickbay.

* * *

Twenty minutes later…

Dr. Crusher was pacing back and forth around the main sickbay. Suddenly she noticed that the little boy was gradually stirring from his sleep. William rubbed his eyes and gradually opened them. His blurry vision started to become clear.

William pushed himself up on his bed and looked around with bugged-out eyes while slightly open-mouthed. He had never expected to be in an exceptionally quiet environment from the one he knew back home. The entire room was lighted, in contrast to the slightly dark room in the Merriman's house that he knew when he woke up every morning. William had never seen any light so bright and at the same time not so blinding to the eyes.

He turned his little head right and left until he noticed Dr. Crusher in her flowing light-blue overcoat. In the midst of his profound astonishment, he plucked up the courage to ask the lady where he was.

"Uh, Miss?" asked William innocently.

Dr. Crusher abruptly turned around and noticed William, who was now completely awake. She smiled lightly.

"Yes?"

"Where am I?"

"You are in the main sickbay of the Federation starship _Enterprise_."

"What's the 'En-ter-prise'?"

Surprisingly this brief conversation William and Dr. Crusher were having was enough to stir the rest of the children from their hibernation slumber. The Doctor started noticing Nan gradually awakening herself. She gently rubbed her eyes.

"William, what are doing?" asked Nan in a sleepy tone of voice. "You're waking us up…"

Nan stopped talking abruptly in mid-sentence. She sat up in bead wide-eyed and open-mouthed. As she turned her head back and forth around the room, she was just as shocked as William was. The astonishment and excitement was too much for her that she jumped out of bed and attempted to shake her older sister from her beauty sleep.

"Lissie! Lissie! Wake up! Wake up! Look!" she cried ecstatically.

Dr. Crusher could only laugh at the seemingly hilarious scene that little Nan was making. The little girl's incessant prodding made Felicity stir from her deep slumber. Within the timeframe of a few seconds she pushed herself out of bed and plopped herself upright onto the floor.

But Felicity noticed something strange about the floor as her bare feet touched it. As her vision cleared, she noticed that the floor was carpeted in blue color, which was kind of bizarre to her, given that she was used to walking on slightly thick rugs back in her day. When she lifted her head slowly, she noticed that she was in a strange, well-lighted room. She turned around fast until she noticed her younger sister and brother, completely awake.

"Lissie, you look terribly strange," remarked Nan innocently. "What happened to your clothes?"

"What happened to yours, too, Nan?" returned Felicity, who was confused, just as William was when he woke up. The girls looked at themselves clad in her thermal gown. Then Felicity looked around the room slowly until she noticed the Doctor.

"Are you all right, Miss?" queried Dr. Crusher.

"Aye, ma'am. I'm fine thank you. Where are we? And where are our clothes?"

"You're on board the Federation starship _Enterprise_."

"Starship?"

"Yes. As to your clothes, they were taken to the dryer and the tailor is fixing them. He should be coming in about a minute or two."

Felicity was utterly confused about her surroundings. Impulsively Nan decided to intervene. "What's a star-ship?" she asked.

Dr. Crusher was slightly at an impasse. If these children from a different timeline, and possibly one from long, long ago, she would have to exercise caution when divulging information related to the future. So she chose her words as carefully as she could, and cleared her throat.

"Let's just say that it's a vessel traversing across outer-space," she replied hesitantly.

"You mean one that travels across the stars?"

"Yes."

Nan started jumping in excitement. "Lissie! We're in a space-ship!"

"Really?" asked Felicity in an incredulous tone of voice as she stared at Nan. Then she centered her head and pondered on the matter for a short moment. "We must be away from Earth, then; away from Williamsburg; away from Father and Mother and baby Polly!" She turned and stared at Dr. Crusher, wide-eyed and agape. "How big is 'space'"?

"It's vast," replied Dr. Crusher in a genial manner. "But it's not entirely empty. There are other entities in space, such as planets, star clusters, milky ways, supernovas, and yes, other starships traveling abroad."

Those bizarre terms got Felicity even more confused than ever. Nan was looking at her pleadingly, as if she was asking her for enlightenment. Then she remembered what Captain Fass told her during the interview aboard the Corellian science vessel about the century they were currently in. Felicity wasted no time in verifying to the Doctor what she was told by the Corellian captain. But at the same time she didn't want to ask her question in a manner where Dr. Crusher would get suspicious about their whereabouts. She was a little too tired to answer questions requiring long, detailed answers.

"Dr. Crusher, what time are we in?" asked Felicity, as calmly as she could.

"Technically, you are in the 24th century, Miss. The exact date is April 11, 2378, 1200 hours."

"1200 hours?"

"The afternoon. Of course time here is different. Because we're no longer on Earth, we use the military time to distinguish what time it is on board the _Enterprise_."

Dr. Crusher immediately noticed Ben and Elizabeth gradually stirring from their sleep.

"Wazzup," muttered Ben. Impulsively he tossed and turned while half asleep until he fell to the left side of his bed, the one adjacent to Elizabeth's.

THUD!

The audible thumping sound was enough to wake Elizabeth completely. Just like William, she was quite clueless as to where she was. She turned her head until she saw Felicity and Nan near each other. William at this point was seated on the bed in a flabbergasted mood.

"Lissie, I heard a loud thump. Could it be…?" She stopped as she saw Ben groaning sleepily. Felicity and Dr. Crusher rushed to the scene.

"Ben!" cried Felicity. She and the Doctor helped him up on his own two feet as Elizabeth jumped out of bed in the direction where Ben fell off his bed. Elizabeth grabbed hold of Ben's right arm and Felicity his left. Both girls held Ben fairly upright.

Dr. Crusher regained her composure and tapped her combadge. "Crusher to the tailor."

"Go ahead."

"The kids are already awake. What's the progress on their costumes?"

"They're completely dried. I just had to do a bit of mending here and there on the dresses, and possibly the undergarments."

"How long until you can bring them here?"

"Two minutes."

"Very well. Crusher out."

Ben was only slightly awake when his blurry vision started to become clear. Gradually his vision could make out the Doctor.

"Who are you?" queried Ben in a curt manner.

"Oh. I apologize for the delay of my introduction, since I didn't want to have to repeat my name over and over again in case any of you guys woke up at different times." The words were passing over Ben's head like water waves. It was at the moment that Dr. Crusher introduced herself formally that he perked up his head.

"Children, my name is Dr. Beverly Crusher, Chief Medical Officer on board the _U.S.S. Enterprise_."

"A woman doctor?" put Ben, slightly scornful.

"Yes." Dr. Crusher's eyes narrowed at Ben.

"That's awfully unusual," Ben remarked. "In my timeline, most of the doctors are men. How's that possible?"

"Um…it's a long story. But let's just say that in this century there are legislative allowances for equal opportunity of both men and women to pursue whatever career they like."

"That's awfully even more unusual." Ben turned his half-awake head to Felicity. "If such were the case, Lissie could work at Mr. Merriman's establishment without any…" He was interrupted when the electronic doorbell emitted a low beep and a high beep at a steady musical beat.

"Come," ordered Dr. Crusher.

The automatic sliding opened in opposite directions and in entered the tailor with a trolley carrying the colonial costumes. The tailor was of humanoid species, except that he had a light-blue face. The rest of his skin was of the same color. He was wearing loose, flowing, strikingly colorful clothes, decorated in Picasso style. The children eyed him in shocking wonder, as if they had never seen anything so unnatural.

"Your clothes, Doctor," the tailor announced briskly. "I take it they belong to these fine-looking humanoids."

"Yes," replied Dr. Crusher in a hurried manner. "That will do."

"Let me know if there are any problems with these costumes," piped the tailor, as he turned around and exited the main sickbay.

Dr. Crusher turned to the children. "Well then, now that you have your clothes back, I think it's time to change. Unless you wish to have another outfit."

"They'll do," replied Elizabeth, smiling coyly. "Thank you, Doctor."

"No problem. Once you're done, I'm going to let some of the senior officers know that you're completely awake. They'll want to get a very good look at you."

"Why?" asked Nan in her sweetly innocent voice.

"Because…you're…special. Now go get changing."

"Yes, let's," put in Felicity briskly. Turning to Nan she whispered, "Please don't lace my stays too tight." The Doctor ushered the children into her personal office for privacy. "And don't touch whatever's on my office desk," she ordered.

Dr. Crusher stationed her office entrance like a sentry guard on duty as the children undressed themselves from their thermal gowns and put on their clothes. Ben and William had no trouble getting their undergarments on, including their shirts, coats, breeches, and black-buckled shoes. The girls on the other hand, although the had nearly no trouble putting on their undergarments (shifts), had to assist each other in putting on their petticoats and gowns, which to them would have been a tad troublesome.

Ben and William were the first to finish, and as they waited for the girls they leaned on the wall, arms akimbo. The girls preened themselves a bit, helping each other fix up their hair and their dress, and fixed on their mobcaps as a final touch.

* * *

A/N: Wesley Crusher's incident at Dorvan V was derived from the ST-TNG Episode "Journey's End". Here is an excerpt from Memory Alpha, the Star Trek Wiki:

Cadet Crusher resigned from Starfleet Academy in 2370 after The Traveler (posing as a villager on Dorvan V) guided Wesley to a vision of his deceased father telling him that his destiny lay somewhere other than with Starfleet. Wesley heeded the advice after which The Traveler revealed his true identity and promised to mentor the young man on his new journey, presumably to other planes of existence. (TNG: "Journey's End")


	8. Chapter 8

_**Star Trek: The Next Generation – Souvenirs**_

**Written By:**_** Commander Cody CC-2224**_

Author's Notes:

I'm pretty sure that this story takes place somewhere in the 2370's A.D, the decade involving the transition of the Star Trek TNG Episodes to the Movies. Specifically, the story takes place between said transition.

About the uniforms: The Starfleet uniforms mentioned in this story are the ones used in the 7th Season of the _Star Trek TNG_ Episodes and the _Star Trek – Generations_ Movie. After _Generations_ the Starfleet uniforms changed drastically in _Star Trek – First Contact_, _Star Trek – Insurrection_, and _Star Trek – Nemesis_.

I have a feeling I might have goofed up the Star Trek timeline and that I'm going to have to update some of the chapters that mention the year 2370. I'm still doing research on Star Trek's Wiki, Memory Alpha, but at the same time, I'm more interested in getting this story done. So fixing the date is probably something I'll postpone for the time being until I'm absolutely sure about it. It's rather troublesome to change stuff in my story because I constantly have to back up my saved web pages every time a change is made.

Anyway, do enjoy the rest of the story, and for those who were very kind enough to give encouraging reviews on this story, especially pansyphoenix, I say with much poignant gratitude, "Thank You Very Much." For those of you who are desperately hanging on for my every word, please review and rate each chapter. Nearly part of my soul is going into this story, you know.

For more information on the Star Trek characters, weapons, and space vessels mentioned in this story, go to and do a search.

* * *

CHAPTER 8

When the children had finished making themselves look fairly presentable as 18th century propriety would allow, Ben was the first to let Dr. Crusher know, after much whispered inquiries to Felicity.

"All right, then," the Doctor replied with much gusto. She tapped her combadge.

"Crusher to Bridge."

Capt. Picard's voice came on the combadge. "Go ahead, Doctor."

"The children are completely awake and dressed in their era-appropriate clothes. I thought you might like to know."

"Thank you, Doctor. I'll be down shortly. In the meantime alert the other senior officers. Picard out."

"I'm going to move you here in the meantime," remarked Dr. Crusher as she scooted the children to the area near the third sickbed in the middle of the semi-circular room. "Stay here," she ordered.

Dr. Crusher approached the T-junction entrance of the main sickbay in a hurried manner and switched on the intercom. "Senior officers please report to the main sickbay," she announced crisply. She switched off the intercom and walked briskly to the area where the children were standing.

"OK, everyone," she announced formally in a slightly hesitant tone of voice, "The senior officers of the _Enterprise_ are going to take a real good look at you. You'll encounter some…people with weird faces, but…they're not going to hurt you. So don't be too alarmed. They're just curious to meet you because you come from a different timeline."

Felicity plucked up the courage to say at least something. "We'll be on our best behavior, ma'am," she replied solemnly, as she tipped a curtsy.

"I trust you will," replied Dr. Crusher. She turned around and sauntered across the center of the room, scanning her tricorder. Felicity and Elizabeth were whispering to each other in the background.

"Lissie, are you sure I look presentable enough?" asked Elizabeth.

Felicity heaved a slight sigh. "You look fine, Elizabeth."

"Aye, but 'tis usually bad manners for a lady not to be seen with her pinnercap."

"Worry not, Lizzie," reassured Ben quietly. "You look presentable, as propriety allows."

"I hope so," replied Elizabeth, slightly worried. "Can you imagine the embarrassment if any of crew were to look at me?"

"As far as I'm concerned, they won't mind," assured Felicity. She put her arm around Elizabeth in an affectionate manner. "Don't fret too much." Elizabeth nodded. She took her arm off her friend gently.

Nearly a minute later the senior officers arrived. The children had expected some kind of formal fanfare to occur, but this advent seemed particularly informal than would be expected back in their timeline.

The children looked pretty intimidated. Present in the room were Capt. Picard, Cmdr. Riker, Lt. Cmdr. Data, Lt. Cmdr. Worf, Counselor Troi, and Transporter Chief Miles O'Brien. La Forge was absent because he had some tasks to do in the Engineering section, but was told he would be given the opportunity to see them if the children took a brief tour in the area where he worked.

Picard's glossy bald head was a source of wonder for the children because people with bald heads usually wore wigs as an outward sign of dignity. Riker's bearded face was not so unusual to them, and his face had a kind of friendly look. Both of them were wearing red uniforms with black pants. Data's face wore a curious look, as his android brain attempted to comprehend the facial expressions of the children, especially the girls. He was in yellow uniform, with the same black pants as that of Picard and Riker. Worf, a lusty Klingon who served in Starfleet for some period in time, had a face which looked as though he was run over by a wheel which bore deep tire tracks. He still maintained the grizzly looks of a fierce, battle-hardened warrior, which made Elizabeth and Nan shudder, save for Felicity. Across his yellow uniform was a shining silver sash, which he considered part of his Klingon heritage, as it was a symbol of his being a warrior. Counselor Troi, in her light gray jumpsuit, had a face that was rather welcoming and understanding. The children had never seen anyone with a jumpsuit before. O'Brien, in his yellow Starfleet uniform, was present as well, with his usual welcoming face.

Dr. Crusher turned her head to face the senior officers. She immediately took notice of Picard.

"Ah, Captain, what a surprise," she greeted in an invigorating manner of speech. "I have just completed the preliminary scans of our guests. No abnormalities, no genetic tampering…"

"Very astute, Doctor," replied Picard in a semi-humorous but slightly curt manner. "I certainly don't recall any such technique being used back then."

Dr. Crusher continued her verbal analysis. "…I seem to be fairly convinced that our guests are from the 18th century."

"What makes you so sure, Doctor?"

"That's the problem. I can't be very sure they are indeed from the 18th century, but they way their style and manners of speech, as well as their behavioral patterns, are such that it would make one almost convinced that they are of 18th century origin. Did you ever hear so many 'ayes'?"

"Well," replied Picard in a genial manner. "I intend to find out, Doctor."

Picard sauntered to the area where the children were standing and bent over. Then he formally introduced himself, as he did many times whenever he encountered new sentient alien species.

"I'm Captain Jean-Luc Picard of the Federation starship _Enterprise_."

"Captain…of the _Enterprise_?" asked Ben in a rather hesitant manner.

"Yes."

Picard turned his attention to the children. "We, uh, received a message from Starfleet Headquarters that five inhabitants of Colonial Williamsburg were missing from time," he informed, trying to sound diplomatic as he could. "The manifest of the highlighted names indicated that two of them were masculine and three of them were feminine. Given that there are two of you boys and three of you girls right now, the names might just match up to you."

Ben, who held his arms akimbo, and William, who was seated on one of the patient's beds were holding an attitude of slight indifference. The girls, however, were slightly relaxed, though they couldn't help being apprehensive about this strange man.

"So," he continued, "I intend to find out what your names are, and if they correspond to the list of the missing Williamsburg inhabitants." Picard made a slight pause, as an idea hit his head like lightning. "Actually, I intend to guess your names."

Picard then fixed his gaze on Ben. "Is your name Mr. Benjamin Davidson from Williamsburg, Virginia?"

Ben nodded. "Aye, sir. And the other four are…"

"Let me guess." Picard pointed to William to indicate to Ben which child he was attempting to identify. "The little boy at the other end of this row would be…William Merriman." Then he pointed to the girls. "The other three are…Miss Felicity Merriman, Miss Nan Merriman, and Miss Elizabeth Cole." He started looking playfully quizzical. "But which one is Miss Merriman, the older girl?

There was a period of brief silence as Riker and Troi chatted quietly in the background.

"I wonder how long he's gonna keep up this guessing game," muttered Riker indignantly

"Relax, Commander," replied Troi, with her sphinx-like smile. "He's just having fun to himself."

"Hmm."

Worf snorted rudely to himself. "I'm getting damn near restless here," he muttered with an attitude of discontent. He didn't find it particularly appealing to be standing with the rest of the senior officers looking at colonial children. Diplomacy was clearly not his style.

Picard looked Felicity in the eye. "I'm going to take a 50-50 chance that Miss Merriman would be…the one with the red hair and the sparkling green eyes," he announced in a tone of voice that hinted confidence.

"You surely guessed correctly, sir," replied Ben.

Felicity felt an urge to ask how her name was successfully guessed by the captain. "Pray, sir, how did you manage to successfully guess my name?"

"Because you of all people look terribly charming," replied Picard. "I guess that's why they called you Felicity. The basic definition of the word means bliss. You sure look like a very blissful angel."

This flattering statement was enough to make Felicity burst into a slightly muffled fit of giggles. Picard chuckled genially to himself.

Then the captain turned his gaze on little Nan. "Is the girl next to the blonde your sister by the name…Miss Nan Merriman?" he inquired quizzically.

Felicity followed the captain's position of his gaze and nodded. "Aye," she replied in a fairly civil manner. Nan glanced at Picard, wide-eyed in wonder.

"Hmm." The captain finally turned his gaze on Elizabeth. "And your name is Miss Elizabeth Cole?"

"Aye, good sir."

All of a sudden Picard couldn't help being attracted by her. "Your avid blue eyes sure look terribly beautiful."

Elizabeth blushed slightly and hung her head a little. "Thank you, sir," she replied meekly.

In the sickbay there was a brief moment of awed silence. Capt. Picard was the first to spread the word about the identity confirmation of the children in relation to the missing inhabitants of Colonial Williamsburg. He turned around and faced the senior officers.

"Well, then," declared Picard. "The missing inhabitants are confirmed. These are indeed persons who lived in the Middle Colonies during the late 18th century. If you'd like to meet them, now's the chance to introduce yourselves." He briefly turned again to the children. "And you may skip the curtsies for now, young ladies," he said finally.

Riker was the next individual to greet the colonial kids. He stepped forward and introduced himself formally. "Commander William T. Riker, Picard's First Officer," he stated. "I'm honored to meet you." He shook each of the children's hands.

Data was next. "Lieutenant Commander Data," he stated emotionlessly. He did the same thing as Riker did.

Worf was next. The children were wide-eyed in horror, especially Nan. She had never seen a person with a weird-looking face. Worf managed to maintain his composure as he greeted them. "I am a Klingon. Lieutenant Commander Worf."

Troi was next in line as well. "Counselor Deanna Troi of Betazed," she said with an appealing voice.

O'Brien was last in line. "Chief Miles O'Brien," he stated in his British accent. It seemed that Elizabeth was sort of feeling at home, because he spoke in her native British accent. "It is an honor to meet all of you."

The senior officers returned to the area in the room where they stood while Picard was examining the children. All of a sudden Troi's extrasensory perceptions tingled. It meant that she sensed certain emotions originating from one of the colonial kinds.

"I sense something appealing," she declared.

"What is it you sense, Counselor?" inquired Picard.

"I sense…young love."

"That's rather unusual. Where's it emanating from?"

"I feel that the redheaded girl has a crush on…this guy." Troi pointed at Ben without being too offensive.

"What?" asked Dr. Crusher, who was fairly baffled at the thought.

"That's rather unusual for an 11-year-old girl like you, Miss Merriman," remarked O'Brien.

Felicity knew that she would have to say something that would shut up the senior officers from chatting about her crush with Ben. "My feelings for him have not developed to the point where it's completely…" She stopped, confused. "Oh, what was the term?" she asked in exasperation.

"Intimate?" finished Troi.

"Aye," replied Felicity in a serious tone of voice. To her such affairs were not to be taken lightly by other people.

The gossip was interrupted when William blurted out, "I'm getting hungry." The senior officers chuckled to themselves.

"So am I," put in Nan.

"Shall I escort them to Ten-Forward?" asked Troi. Ten-Forward was the observation lounge on the saucer section of every Galaxy Class starship, and was the hub of every sort of social activity on board the _Enterprise_. It was so called because the room was located at the foremost part of the vessel, on Deck 10.

Dr. Crusher was scanning the children with her tricorder. "Hmm. You don't seem that hungry to begin with," she remarked. "Besides, you all look as though you could do with a bath."

Ben and William weren't that all surprised. Back in their timeline, people generally took a bath once a month. The girls, on the other hand, got kind of embarrassed by the statement, though not completely.

"The Doctor's right, children," put in Picard. "Besides, if you waltzed into Ten-Forward without taking a bath, you could end up attracting a lot of unnecessary attention to yourselves. There are some crew personnel in there that can smell things a mile away." He turned to Troi, who was standing fairly next to him. "Counselor, would you be kind enough to escort them to their quarters? There should be some guest rooms available on Deck 10."

"That would be very convenient for them, Captain," replied Troi, smiling. "After all, this would put them at close proximity with Ten-Forward."

"Good thinking, Counselor. Make it so."

Counselor Troi ushered the children out of the sickbay. Picard turned to the senior officers.

"That's all for now, gentlemen. Back to your stations."

The officers left the sickbay and returned to the workplace areas in different directions.

O'Brien was the only one left in the sickbay. "Did you see how that English lass looked at me?" he commented to Dr. Crusher.


	9. Chapter 9

_**Star Trek: The Next Generation – Souvenirs**_

**Written By:**_** Commander Cody CC-2224**_

Author's Notes:

I apologize for the delay of this chapter. Before I could proceed, I first had to find more information on the Galaxy Class starship, since this is the type of space vessel that the _Enterprise-D_ is. Also the writer's block was plaguing me, as well as the homework I had to do.

Overview on room locations (in accordance with the research derived from):

The main sickbay, where the Chief Medical Officer's office is, is on Deck 12 of the saucer section.

The name Ten-Forward was mentioned initially in the previous chapter. Ten-Forward is located on Deck 10, at the forward most part of the saucer section. That's how the room got its name. This particular area of the _Enterprise_ will be discussed in the next chapter, as Felicity and her friends and siblings will be dining there after they take their bath. I suppose the personnel at Ten-Forward don't intend to put up with people who give off bad odors, especially that people back in the colonial period took baths only once a month (if I recall), and especially that Felicity and her chums have been sweating after the initial events they were in prior to their stay on board the _Enterprise_.

(Research Enterprise schematics for more info, or go to and type in "Galaxy class decks" in the search box)

Accordingly Deck 10 doesn't seem to have any indication of guest quarters, but I decided for convenience to have Felicity and her friends utilize a fairly spacious living quarters (windowless, of course) for their stay on board the Enterprise.

* * *

CHAPTER 9

The _U. S. S. Enterprise_ continued cruising under impulse power. The entire Galaxy-class vessel was a thing of beauty in the eye of the beholder.

On board, Counselor Troi and the children were taking a leisurely stroll across the corridors of the _Enterprise_'s saucer section.

Nan could not help chatting with Troi about Felicity's feelings for Ben. So she started piping up all sorts of questions about the affair.

"Miss Counselor, however did you manage to sense Lissie's crush with Ben?" Nan asked innocently.

"I'm a Betazoid. I can sense emotions in people."

"What's a Betazoid?"

"It's a humanoid race of aliens from the planet Betazed. They are a telepathic people, which means they can communicate mentally, that is, in their minds."

"Wow. I wish I could do something like that."

Counselor Troi chuckled to herself in a genial manner.

"What did you feel when you sensed Lissie's crush?"

"I think it was an appealing moment. It's like a flower, anxious to burst into full bloom even though its time has not yet come."

The group continued strolling through the corridor.

"Yes, the same thing can be said of your older sister's crush. Young love can be so sweet, and perhaps a tad immature. To the young, as well as to those who are very emotional, it's irresistible to read about, hear about, and experience."

Felicity was getting embarrassed again about Nan talking about her affections with Ben. "Nan, can you _please_ stop talking about my feelings with Ben? It's very unbecoming for me; it keeps making me blush."

"It does?" asked Nan, fairly curious. "But Lissie, I like to see you blush."

"Nan, please," Felicity pleaded.

As usual, Nan acted as innocent as she could and shrugged. Felicity hoped that this body gesture was a sign that she would agree to stop talking about the affair that was always reddening her face in front of her friends, if not her siblings.

Ben was curious about Counselor Troi's ethnic origin. "Are you completely Betazoid?" he asked, trying not to be rude.

"Actually, I'm half-Betazoid," replied Troi. "My mother Lwaxana was a complete Betazoid, and she married a human. So that's how I came to be. Unfortunately my father died, so she remained a widow ever since."

There was a brief moment of silence that lasted nearly six seconds.

"That is, before she met another man, a Kaelon scientist by the name of Dr. Timicin," continued Troi. "Unfortunately her fiancé came from a planet that involved voluntary suicide at a certain age. Dr. Timicin could not violate his obligation, nor did he ever have the courage to do so. So my mother went with him, to her death."

Upon hearing this, Felicity became indignant and was unable to help herself from expressing her opinion about the matter. "That's awfully appalling!" she put out. "How can her fiance's people ever engage in something so contemptible like this?"

Troi heaved a sigh. "That was the very same question my mother said to him. In fact she even tried to persuade him not to engage in this suicide ritual, and even asked the captain to put a stop to it. But, well, the Prime Directive forbade the captain to interfere with these cultural matters."

Felicity began to feel sympathy for the Counselor concerning the matter of her mother. "You must miss her so much," she remarked.

Troi gave a nod, as if she was hesitant to press the matter further. She continued leading them through the corridor until they came to a turbolift. She pressed the button and the sliding doors opened after a few seconds. She ushered the children into the turbolift and stepped inside.

Because of the relatively small space in the turbolift, the children, including Troi, was finding the space rather cramped. Troi gave a verbal command to the computer, specifying which deck she wanted the turbolift to go.

"Deck 10," she commanded. The children could slightly feel the turbolift going in an upward direction. A rush of air could be heard. The ride lasted for nearly half a minute, then the sliding doors retracted to the opposite sides. Troi and the children set foot on Deck 10.

"This is where Ten-Forward is, but the Doctor doesn't want you going there until you've taken a bath. After you dine there, however, Dr. Crusher wants you to report back to the Sickbay for further examination under the Science team."

"What does she mean by that?" asked Elizabeth.

"Basically she wants to study you children further. She wants to keep detailed medical records about all of you. Doctor's prerogative. The knowledge gained would enhance our minds a little further as to what children from the 18th century were like."

"Fascinating," remarked Ben in a rather casual manner.

"They're not going to cut us up, are they?" asked Felicity, who was slightly nervous.

"What?" spat Ben in an incredulous manner, scoffing at the idea of the personnel he and the rest of the children were encountering would be the barbaric types. "You're being stupid, Lissie."

This remark was enough to make Felicity cast a stern glare at him. "And what if it's true?" she retorted?

"No, Miss Merriman," replied Troi in a calm manner. "They'll just scan you, and perhaps examine your mouth area and other parts of your body, if deemed to be appropriate, for biological traces that we will collect for your medical records.."

Despite Counselor Troi's scientific verbiage, Felicity felt fairly reassured at least that the medical and science teams would be performing the horrible things that she feared they would do to her and to the rest of the children.

"Now, if you're really that hungry, there is a replicator in the guest quarters, though it's not very large. The computer can generate only snacks or other small meals, but if you want to help yourselves to several servings, you go to Ten-Forward. You can use the replicator to generate small meals to hold your hunger."

It was not long before the group came across a door bearing a professional-looking, clear-written sign in fine bold print that read, "ROOM 0313". Counselor Troi entered the room as the sliding doors opened automatically with alacrity in their opposite directions.

The children were the next to step inside. They were incredibly awed at the sight of the room. It comprised of a quadrilateral layout, 30 ft. long and 28 ft. wide, with a portion of the quadrilateral cut diagonally far from the middle From the entranceway there was a bathroom to the left side of the living area. In the right side of the living quarters was a small, walk-in closet, whose entranceway was located on the diagonal corner.

The guest quarters seemed to be far more spacious looking than even Felicity's bedchamber at home. On the left side facing the entrance to the room was a king-sized bed fixed with two comforter blankets and three feather pillows on a modest-looking bed frame with neat decorations, with its side main bed frame wall facing to the wall. Tucked under the main bed was an auxiliary trundle bed, with the same type of comforters and pillows that the main bed had. Fairly adjacent to the diagonal cut portion of the living area's floor plan was a fabric-lined sofa with three fabric-lined cushions. Near the front of the sofa was a coffee table lined with a smooth pine surface, 5 ft. long and 3 ft. wide, and 2 ft. high.

From the right side of the guest quarters' entranceway was a small, sturdy metal desk, with smooth, decorative rose-wood panels. On the middle of the desk was a personal computer. Near the desk was a swivel office chair. The chair had a thick, smooth-looking corduroy surface on its front, and a flat surface on the back. It looked as though they had stepped into a hotel suite.

"Just so you know, the guest quarters is equipped with a bathroom," informed Troi sweetly. "Perhaps you might like to try the sonic shower as well. The features of the bathroom are run by the computer, but the faucet and shower can be manually turned on. Just use the knobs."

Elizabeth was somewhat confused by what Troi said. "Um, Miss Counselor, I don't know if…"

"We'll manage, thank you, Counselor," interrupted Felicity in a courteously sweet tone of voice. She thought that if there were other features in the bathroom, they would not know how to utilize it properly. And how does anyone take a "shower", she wondered.

"All right," replied Troi gently. "Dr. Crusher will be awaiting your grand arrival in the main sickbay on Deck 12 when you're done washing and dining. She'll be assuming that you'll be in Ten-Forward within the hour and will send you a crewman to check on you after that period in time. Don't worry; we won't pressure you too much if we don't need to."

Counselor Troi was about to leave when a thought hit her head. She needed to give directions to the children on how to get to Ten-Forward.

"Oh, I nearly forgot. In case you're wondering where Ten-Forward is, it's down this corridor and into the left. You should be able to find it on your right side. It's the clear-glass door with the Starfleet Insignia. If you can't remember these directions, just ask the computer to direct you to there."

"How?" asked Felicity.

"Just say, Computer, please state directions for Ten-Forward. Or whatever room you want to go to. But don't wander around the ship too much."

"Don't worry, Miss Counselor," piped up Elizabeth. "You can trust us."

"Hmm. We'll be monitoring you, just so you know."

The children nodded. Counselor Troi left the room and the sliding doors closed fairly fast. They were now left alone in the guest quarters.

Surprisingly, it didn't take long for the children to decide who should take a bath first, mainly at this point because of Felicity.

"Ben?" she addressed sweetly.

"Hmm? What, Lissie?"

Felicity's face had a rather wistful look. "You won't mind if we older girls bathe ourselves first?"

Ben heaved a sigh and shrugged. "Fine. Just don't take too long, ladies."

"Thank you," replied Felicity. "You won't mind if we also help Nan and William with their bath, too, before you start?"

"Well, do make it quick…if you can," reminded Ben, as calmly as he could.

Felicity was appreciative of Ben's generosity to let them start first, but she suspected that because Father and Mother were not here, Ben would somewhat be inclined to play the role of a peeping tom.

"And Ben," piped up Felicity in a serious tone of voice. Ben instinctively turned to her.

"Just because Father and Mother aren't here doesn't mean that you get to sneak around, watching us young ladies bathing ourselves. 'Twould be most improper to do so."

"Lissie," blurted Ben. "Since when did you care this much about what's proper and what's not? You don't usually…"

"The situation is different because Elizabeth is here," Felicity interrupted him in a manner that almost conveyed a sense of superiority within herself. "'Twould upset her greatly if you were to engage in such a dishonorable thing like that."

"Don't worry, Lissie. My honor would not permit me to engage in such sneaky actions…" he stopped. A thought surged through his mind. Felicity usually did most of the sneaky stuff around his back, and he couldn't get his share? But there seemed to be no time to bring out such speculation out into the open; the children were getting hungry, and he, along with the rest of them, were very much anxious to get cleaned up so they could visit Ten-Forward and dine in pleasure. So for the time being he dismissed the thought.

"Oh, very well," replied Ben, right after he managed to regain his attention to the girls. "If there's a…replicator…or whatever it's called…in the guest quarter's, I'll make use of it if I want to help myself to a little snack."

"Thank you," declared Felicity finally. "Let's go, Elizabeth." The two merriest girls in Virginia moseyed to the bathroom in a fairly ladylike manner. The entrance doors slid open in the opposite directions as they entered and shut.

During his long wait in the main living area, Ben promptly walked up to the coffee table and got his hands on a magazine featuring images of hi-tech futuristic weapons and gear of the 24th century. Plonking himself on the sofa, he positioned himself in a half-reclining manner and browsed profusely through the magazine.

In the bathroom both Felicity and Elizabeth were at odds to know how to lock the sliding doors. However, they were too intent on getting over the task of cleaning themselves up to even bother with the issue. The bathroom was fairly comfy, even if it was nearly half the size of Felicity's bedchamber. Facing the entrance was the gleaming white bathtub. The fluorescent light shining from the flat ceiling lamps illuminated the entire bathroom completely. The bathroom sink was hooked to the left side of the room, and was adjacent to the bathtub. The girls had never seen a setting like that; if such a room similar to the one they encountered ever existed in their timeline, it would usually be seen only in the European homes of the aristocracy. This was just a teasing taste of the modern technological amenities that Felicity, her siblings, and her friends would encounter on board the _Enterprise_.

While Elizabeth was busy marveling the sight of the squeaky-clean bathroom, Felicity decided to check out the bathtub. As she gingerly pulled aside the waterproof curtains, she gasped in elated astonishment. The tub was scrubbed clean. The aluminum bathtub faucet was hooked on the left side of the bathroom, basically on the same wall area where the bathroom sink was, except it was situated on the side of the tub.

The euphoria lasted only for a few seconds when Felicity was at odds to know how the heck was she to operate the "shower". So she decided that both she and Elizabeth would take a bath in the old-fashioned way they knew back in their own colonial timeline. She turned to Elizabeth, who this time was waiting for Felicity for instructions.

"Elizabeth?" said Felicity.

"Hmm?"

"I think we should just simply take our baths our way. The way 'tis usually done at home."

"You mean we assist each other with bathing ourselves?"

"Aye."

"But…I'm afraid I don't know how 'tis usually done, Lissie," remarked Elizabeth, confused. Back home she was used to having the servants assist her with taking a bath.

"Don't worry, Elizabeth" declared Felicity in a reassuring tone. "I'll show you how 'tis done. Then you'll do the same for me."

"All right," replied Elizabeth timidly.

"So get into the tub and undress yourself."

Elizabeth stepped into the bathtub and Felicity drew the curtain. After that she sat on a footstool near the bathtub and rested her head on her arms as she listened to the fairly audible thumps Elizabeth was making as she took off her shoes and stockings, and cast off her mobcap, gown, petticoats, and stays, saving her shift, because she was particular about having Felicity witness her completely without any clothes on in case Felicity had to be the one to figure out how to turn the faucet on. Because the bathtub floor was dry, Elizabeth didn't have to worry about throwing her clothes on the floor. When she did partially undress herself, she cast her clothes out of the bathtub and onto the bathroom floor.

"I think you can start filling this tub with water, Lissie," Elizabeth called out.

This was all Felicity needed. She got up and drew the curtain slightly.

"Elizabeth, I can't fill up this tub unless you take off your shift. 'Tis going to get wet."

"But Lissie, 'twould be most improper for me to appear completely naked in front of you!" exclaimed Elizabeth indignantly. Felicity couldn't help laughing to herself at the idea.

She then proceeded to figure out how to turn on the faucet, if there was any. Obviously she didn't know what a faucet looked like, as these things didn't exist back the 18th century. However, she did observe a decorative lever above the faucet, pointing downward. Perhaps this will turn on the faucet, she thought herself.

She tried pulling the lever gently toward her, which would have turned it to a clockwise direction, but the lever stayed put. Then she pushed the lever to the opposite direction, in the counterclockwise direction. The lever moved, and as she turned it, cold water started rushing out of the faucet. Elizabeth could feel the water splashing about her bare feet.

"Ack! The water's cold, Lissie!" squeaked Elizabeth.

"Calm down, Elizabeth," replied Felicity, who was giggling slightly at her friend's circumstance of acting like a ninny. She slowly turned the lever until it pointed upward and placed her hand on the rushing water. She could feel the water starting to turn warm.

"The water's warm now, Elizabeth," assured Felicity.

Elizabeth immediately noticed a plastic cylindrical tube a foot long and an inch wide with a viscous bluish liquid. She grabbed the tube a strange-looking tube and showed it to Felicity, "Here's a container that says 'Bath Soap', informed Elizabeth. "Is it all right to use it?" For the most part Elizabeth was unsure as to what to do in circumstance like that, and being the smarter girl, it was up to Felicity to do most of the figuring out.

Felicity mulled over the labeling wrapped around the tube. She felt a bit uncertain about using the device. If her father or mother were here, she would be inclined to ask them. But for now she was inclined to take a chance, since soap was necessary to get themselves squeaky clean and remove the body odors that would attract unnecessary attention if they ever went to Ten-Forward.

"Aye. I think 'tis safe to use," replied Felicity confidently. 'Tis indeed soap, after all." She pried open the plastic snap-on lid and poured the flowing liquid into the bath water, near the area on the surface where the water was flowing from the faucet. Soap bubbles started to emanate and gradually encompass the bath water. To the girls' relief, the water was soapy.

"Now you can take off your shift and the rest of your undergarments, throw them on the floor with the rest of your clothes, and sit back until the water reaches a few inches below your dainty arms," declared Felicity.

Elizabeth nodded, and Felicity drew back the curtain. After a few seconds, she saw Elizabeth's shift being tossed out, and then the rest of her undergarments.

"Let me know if you're ready for a nice scrub," Felicity called out.

Felicity paced around the bathroom as the sound of the rushing water reached her ears. It was a strange sound to them; the sound of rushing water in torrents was something they had never heard, much less exposed to, since her family had never gone to the New England colonies, or the frontier areas of Virginia, where lush waterfalls were aplenty. Yet by far it was perhaps to them the most appealing sound they could ever hear.

After nearly eight minutes of meditative waiting, she heard Elizabeth call out, "I think you can turn off the water now, Lissie."

Felicity went to the bathtub promptly, drew the curtains halfway to her right side, and turned the lever clockwise until she could move it no more. The water stopped flowing from the tub faucet. Elizabeth was now half-submerged in the thick, soapy bathwater, as she sat upright in the tub, reclined near the side wall opposite to the other end where the faucet was. Because of the thick soap suds floating on the surface, the rest of Elizabeth's body could not be seen while submerged, which helped her maintain some means of privacy as her friend proceeded to assist her with the bathing process.

"I think that's a scrub brush I found, or rather, one that looks very much like a scrub brush," remarked Elizabeth, pointing to a small hand-held aluminum scrub brush with an elegantly carved aluminum handle formed into a semicircle curve. Upon spotting the brush, Felicity took it and examined the exterior workings. It was apparent that both girls had never seen a scrub brush with an aluminum handle. Most of the brushes they had seen and used were mostly made out of wood and used hairs that were derived from a fairly rough material. But the hairs on the aluminum scrub brush, although looking rough, were comprised of nylon, which was a little more finer than the brushes of the colonial period. Instinctively Felicity ran the brush gently on her left arm. The nylon hairs gave a tickling sensation on her soft milky white skin.

"You're right, Elizabeth. 'Tis indeed a scrub brush, and one with much finer hairs than the ones we constantly see in use back in our timeline. I think it will work very well on your dainty skin."

"Really?" asked Elizabeth, as if she was quite hesitant to have it tested on her. Proper young ladies were expected to keep their skin clean and attractive.

"I should think so," replied Felicity wistfully. "It worked on mine. But first I'm going to wash your hair before I start using it on the rest of your delicate body." Felicity sauntered to the other side of the bathtub and drew the bathtub curtain completely to her left side. She pulled the footstool over, seated herself on it, and daintily rubbed her hands as she prepared to plunge them into the attractively warm, soapy bathwater.

So Felicity proceeded to assist Elizabeth with her bath, since Elizabeth was pretty much used to the servants doing it for her and probably didn't know how to do it herself. As she got started with scrubbing and playfully mussing with Elizabeth's pretty blond hair, which was starting to get slathered in soap suds, she remarked casually that she learned most of the bathing techniques from observing Rose (the black servant that assisted the Merriman family). As usual, the girls engaged in lively and fairly serious conversation on the matters of possible marriage prospects, as well as the time when Annabelle was about to be engaged to Lord Lacey, and managed to break the engagement by mutual consent. This time, the conversation mainly focused for the time being on Felicity's childish crush with Ben.

"So…Lissie," began Elizabeth, "Not…that you'll be pretty…embarrassed to hear me say this, but…are you ever considering…the possibility...of marrying Ben when you grow up?" The mid-sentence cutoffs were in part due to the soapy water trickling down the middle of her face, as well as the constant scrubbing rhythms made by Felicity.

Felicity could feel the light reddish color rising to her cheeks. "Perhaps," she replied dreamily.

"Oh, Lissie, I think you should," replied Elizabeth wistfully. "You won't find many a man in all of Williamsburg, much less in the colonies, that is like Ben, or even half the man as he."

Felicity smiled instinctively as she continued mussing with Elizabeth's hair. To Elizabeth, the rhythmic effect was very appealing.

"Elizabeth, I'm afraid I'm quite too young to be wed," Felicity put in. "I'm not even old enough to begin courting. How much more for marriage, anyway?" Girls usually courted around age fifteen.

"You're probably right about that. But…Mother told me that there are some girls who are betrothed at your age."

"Aye. But in Virginia we have our different customs." Felicity took the aluminum scrub brush sitting on the bathtub rim and rubbed it vigorously on Elizabeth's back.

"Perhaps a little more gently, Lissie," requested Elizabeth. Even with the fine nylon fibers, her skin was quite delicate. Felicity, understanding the circumstance, made her scrubs a little less vigorous.

"Besides," Felicity added, "Father will not approve of betrothal at my age." She spotted a face towel in the niche of the bathtub wall, grabbed it, and handed it to Elizabeth.

"Here. Make yourself useful by at least scrubbing the front part of your body." Elizabeth took the face towel and began scrubbing her front, including her arms and her armpit areas. Then she instinctively plunged her already soaked arms into the tepid soapy bathwater and scrubbed her legs.

"Did you ever flirt with Ben?"

"Elizabeth Cole! For the sake of honor, please don't believe me to be capable of such a thing, especially at my age. Why, I'd be the talk in all of Williamsburg if I ever did such a thing. Besides, Ben is far too honorable to allow me to act that way in a childish fashion."

"I'm just teasing, Lissie," Elizabeth grinned mischievously. "Can't a mischievous girl like me have a little fun?" Felicity heaved am exasperated sigh.

"Speaking of fun, I seem to miss the time when we teased Bananabelle about her fancy with Ben," said Elizabeth dreamily.

"Well, fortunately, we won't have to worry about that," replied Felicity in a confident tone of voice. "Annabelle is, after all, not here, so we won't have to concern ourselves with her making a fool of herself in front of him for the time being."

"You won't have to worry about that, Lissie," remarked Elizabeth in a relaxed manner. "This time Ben can give you his full and undivided attention."

"Aye, that is so. Ben won't have to do any work here, I suppose. But he can get rather restless from time to time, so I suspect that will not always be the case."

"Lissie, even in here, I just don't think you can keep him beside you like a caged animal. He'll want to roam around this ship. Mayhap you will, too."

Elizabeth was already finished scrubbing the front areas of her body, and Felicity was through with scrubbing her hair and rubbing her back.

"I dare say, these back rubbings were quite…stimulating," remarked Elizabeth dreamily.

"Thank you," replied Felicity.

"I suppose I should get out of the tub now."

"All right. Let me find a way to drain the water out of this tub. Just stay put for now and see if you can find some sort of plug."

"How?" asked Elizabeth, wearing a puzzled look on her face.

"Just feel your way around," responded Felicity, shrugging her arms.

In the meantime Felicity moved to the other side of the bathtub, plunged her hands into the bathwater and felt her way around until her hands caught on something strangely solid. This might be a drain plug, she thought. She tried tugging at it, but to no avail. Then she tried pushing at the lump and it pressed downward. Lifting her hand up, the lump released itself. Then both girls heard a slightly audible gurgling sound coming from the drain and noticed the water level receding from the tub. Noticing that the receding bathwater was on the verge of exposing Elizabeth's soaked body, she immediately drew the bathtub curtain to give her privacy.

The gurgling sound of the bath water draining stopped. Immediately Elizabeth appeared on the right side of the tub, leaning to her left with the curtain withdrawn a little. "The water is already gone, Lissie," she Elizabeth. "Can you please hand me my clothes now?"

Felicity sifted through Elizabeth's untidily tossed clothes and seized Elizabeth's undergarments and white shift. Then she grabbed a white-colored towel from the towel rack attached near the left side of the bathroom sink. She handed both these things to Elizabeth with alacrity.

"You'll need only your undergarments and your shift," remarked Felicity. "Because it's your turn to assist me with my beauty shower." Elizabeth took the towel and the rest of her undergarments and withdrew the curtain. "And don't dawdle so! My stomach is growling and I want to get my bath over with," she called to Elizabeth.

"I'm working on it, Lissie," responded Elizabeth. After nearly a minute and a half Elizabeth slid the curtains completely open. She was now dressed in her undergarments and her loose flowing shift. She was barefoot. Her slightly unkempt half-soaking blond hair looked as though Crisco was applied to it, and flowed freely down her neck. Felicity peered into the bathtub and noticed that the bathtub floor was very wet.

"I can't take off my clothes in this wet bathtub floor," remarked Felicity emphatically, "So I'm going to do so in the room itself, and I don't particularly like the idea of people looking at me while I undress myself. So can you leave the room for the time being? I'll let you know when you're supposed to come back inside when I'm completely in the tub."

"All right, Lissie." Opening the bathroom door, Elizabeth sauntered outside and shut it completely.

Elizabeth noticed Ben half-reclined, browsing and staring profusely at the glossy magazine which glittered of hi-tech gadgets, slowly tuning the pages at different long periods of time. She could smell the wafting scent of hot chocolate, due to three steaming white ceramic mugs that were resting on the polished coffee table that were churned from the replicator. The entire room was quiet, except for Nan and William, who were playing finger grab with each other, since there seemed to be no other alternative means to entertain each other at this point. After all, it was their first time on board the _Enterprise_.

Elizabeth cautiously approached the sofa where Ben was on. Peering closely near the glossy pages of the magazine, she noticed several photographs of strange-looking devices of the 24th century. In the midst of the clutter was a feature of particular interest, which comprised of a toothpaste tube, which, according to the ad specifications, contained a type of special cream that could penetrate 10 inches of carbonized steel. Eyeing on that device, Ben mulled over the specifications with interest. Soon he noticed a light shadow cast over the magazine's glossy pages, which made him instinctively turn around to see who it was.

"Good day, Mr. Davidson," greeted Elizabeth, who kept a slight smile to her face. "Care to tell me what this is all about?"

"My, aren't you quite a nosy girl today, Elizabeth Cole," remarked Ben in a fairly wry manner. He turned his head back to the magazine pages.

Elizabeth continued scanning the pages closely while leaning on the back of the sofa area where Ben was. She noticed the penetration cream tube and made a rather wry remark about it.

"'A cream that can penetrate 10 inches of carbonized steel'?" Elizabeth red out loud. "I've never heard of anything so ridiculous in my entire life."

Ben just simply shrugged and ignored her slightly snooty remark. Not being a technologically-minded person, as was mostly the case with girls in the 18th century Elizabeth flounced away from the sofa, but stopped immediately where she was and turned around.

"How on earth did you get that hot chocolate sitting on the coffee table," inquired Elizabeth.

"The replicator. Just say, 'hot chocolate' and it will immediately appear from nothing."

"Ben, you know full well that something can't just simply come from nothing."

"'Twas the case with me," replied Ben in a casual manner. "The replicator is at the other end of this room. Find a shiny white niche."

Elizabeth was rather skeptical of the replicator's functions, but decided to give it a try. Spotting the replicator at the end of the room, she moseyed to that particular spot near the niche and enunciated the command, "Hot chocolate, please." A steaming white mug of hot chocolate materialized in the niche. She flinched and gasped in astonishment; to her it was just like magic, she had never seen a device that could do something this unusual. Regaining her composure, she daintily took the mug and took a sip. The hot, dark brown liquid nearly burned the tip of her tongue, including her upper lip.

"Ach," she exhaled abruptly. She moseyed back to the coffee table and put down her mug of hot chocolate to let it cool off. It was not long after a few seconds that the bathroom doors slid opened, revealing Felicity with the middle part of her body wrapped with a white towel, with her left hand holding the edges.

"I'm ready now, Elizabeth," she called out to her friend. Felicity disappeared back into the bathroom. Elizabeth hastened back to the bathroom and the sliding doors closed behind her.

Back in the bathroom, Elizabeth found her friend sitting upright in the tub, submerged in the soapy water to the very top of her shoulder area. The thick soap suds floating on the surface covered her body. All of Felicity's clothes were cast off on the bathroom floor near the entrance corner of the bathroom.

"My, Lissie, you do seem to be able to sprint into the bathtub quite so fast," Elizabeth remarked sardonically.

"Well, Elizabeth, I didn't want you to see me completely naked," retorted Felicity.

"So what do I do now?"

"The same thing I did for you. Scrub my hair and rub my back with the scrub brush," commanded Felicity. She pointed to the aluminum brush sitting on the middle of the bathtub rim.

Elizabeth seized the brush and placed it alongside her at the right-hand end of the rim. Then she plunged her dainty hands into the soapy bathwater and wet Felicity's stubborn red hair. She was beginning to find it quite fun in mussing with it. As usual, the girls engaged in fairly lively conversation again.

"Now that you've kept me engaged in the subject of possible marriage prospects with Ben, it's time for me to ask the same for you."

"All right," replied Elizabeth.

"Have you decided whom you will marry?" Felicity asked, flashing a teasing grin at her best friend.

"Lissie, you can be quite so blunt at times!" exclaimed Elizabeth in shock. Clearly it was too early for her to even think about such things. She returned to a calmer tone of voice. "Father says I have to wait until sixteen to be courted."

"Wow. My father says the same thing, too."

"Then in that case it seems that your father and I have something in common regarding that custom," remarked Elizabeth wistfully. "Well, most of the time, that is the case in England, not just in the colonies."

Elizabeth was still scrubbing and mussing Felicity's hair in a rather playful manner, just as Felicity did with hers.

"Fortunately, I won't have to worry about such things at my age," remarked Elizabeth.

"I just hope you won't have to marry some silly old lord," retorted Felicity. She remembered the conversation during the winter season of 1775, perhaps nearly a month before the Templeton Christmas Ball, when Annabelle kept touting about her grand marriage prospects with Lord Harry Lacey during one of their lessons with Miss Manderly, and how they both teased her about it.

"I suppose it would be nice if I did, but 'twould be terrible if it were forced upon me. I know 'tis good to be proper, but too much properness can be quite a bit stifling."

"Wow, you seem to start sounding a bit like me," replied Felicity. Then she figured she had enough hair scrubbing.

"You can start scrubbing my back now," informed Felicity. Elizabeth took the scrub brush and rubbed Felicity's back. It had a very stimulating effect on her, just as it had with when she rubbed the brush on her arm.

"You know what, Lissie? I think you decided to mention marriage prospects to me just to tease me," Elizabeth remarked in a calm but sarcastic manner.

"Oh, Elizabeth," sighed Felicity. "Can't a mischievous girl like me have a little fun?" She again flashed her teasing smile on Elizabeth, immediately remembered that same statement she said to her best friend. That being the case, both girls burst into a fit of giggles.

Felicity took the white face-towel she placed in the bathtub niche and scrubbed the front areas of her body. She started with her middle, then the arms and armpits. Finally she scrubbed her legs and feet, and the areas in between. It was at this point that conversation was held to a minimum, since Felicity was busy as a bee trying to scrub herself squeaky clean.

"Now can you please hand me my undergarments and shift?" requested Felicity. "And a nice, dry towel?" Elizabeth immediately handed these things to her friend.

"Now turn around and don't look."

Elizabeth moved to the other end of the bathroom and faced the wall on that end. Felicity sloshed out of the bathtub and slathered the towel around her wet, dripping body until it was fairly dry. Then she put on her undergarment leggings and donned her shift.

"I'm already fairly covered now," Felicity told her friend. Elizabeth faced her.

"Now, for the time being I'll postpone primming myself until I help with Nan and William's bath. 'Twould be nice if you could help, but if you want, you can just simply enjoy exploring around the guest quarters. But if you are, then leave just your shift on for the time being."

"My tummy's growling. 'Twould be faster if we both helped," replied Elizabeth. "That way we'll get the task done faster."

Felicity nodded as she emerged from the bathroom. "Nan, William," she called out in a motherly tone of voice. "Time for your ba-ath," she continued in a sing-song manner.

"Oh, no," groaned William rather resentfully. "I hate bath time," he murmured in protestation.

"The bath water is quite comfy, as Elizabeth and I have just found out for ourselves," replied Felicity in a confident and superior manner. "You won't have to worry about your naked body shivering in the tub, William."

"To you, it is," William retorted in his rebellious attitude.

Now Felicity was exasperated. "Look," she declared in a cross manner. "You either get into the tub, or you don't get to go with us to Ten-Forward. The Doctor doesn't want any of us going there unless we're all squeaky clean."

"What difference does it make, anyway?" continued William in a rather challenging manner. "The repli-whatsit can generate whatever stuff I want."

"Well, the meals there might be better at this Ten-Forward dining place," put in Elizabeth.

"Whatever," replied Felicity in a tone of voice that hinted her continued vexation. She faced William squarely and tried pleading with him. "Please, William, don't make this any difficult than it has to be," she sighed. "The others are getting hungry, and Ben is waiting for us to be done with our bath so he can take his."

"What about our hot chocolate?"

Felicity motioned to the coffee table and quickly noticed that the steaming mugs were still full. Then she turned around to face William again.

"Both of your hot chocolates is still steaming; you might as well get your bath over with while waiting for them to cool off," declared Felicity.

"C'mon, Will," crooned Nan, dragging little William by his left arm. After Felicity ushered the two little mites into the bathroom, she disappeared back into the room and the sliding doors shut themselves. Ben turned his glances back on his magazine pages.

"Thank you, Nan. That's my good girl," Felicity said to her younger sister, after they were back in the now fairly crowded bathroom.

"You sound just like Mother," Nan remarked sweetly. "Thank you, Lissie."

Felicity asked Elizabeth to take off Nan and William's clothes as she proceeded to heat up the bath water and douse it with the liquid soap. It didn't take long for the water to fill up the tub halfway. When the two toddlers were completely undressed both the older girls scurried them into the bathtub.

For the time being Felicity and Elizabeth decided to keep their conversations to a minimum because they had to put all their concentrations on cleaning up the two little mites. Felicity bathed Nan on the left side of the tub, while Elizabeth bathed William on the other side. Both toddlers were face-to-face with each other. They kept blubbering to each other as their heads were being scrubbed and stroked clean. As with the scrub brush, the girls had to take turns using it. Elizabeth was first to use it on William's back.

"I do believe you're right, Lissie," remarked Nan sweetly. "The bath water is quite comfy. I've never experienced something this grand in my entire life."

After nearly two minutes and a quarter, Elizabeth handed the brush to her friend, who in turn used it on Nan's back as well, while Nan scrubbed her pretty little body with a different face towel that Felicity grabbed from the cabinet under the sink. She handed the soaking towel to William, who did the same thing his older sister did.

When the girls finished scrubbing Nan and William, they ushered them out of the bathtub and dried them with clean white towels.

"Now both of you little mites put on just your undergarments and shifts," Felicity told the two toddlers. "We'll prim ourselves in the living area because Ben has to take his bath." She turned to her friend. "Elizabeth, why don't you help Nan dress up, while I deal with William. He's getting rather feisty today."

"Like you," put in William. Felicity, being often told that she was the feisty one, had a little trouble dismissing the remark off her mind; at the same time, it was not worth the effort to do so at this point. She wanted to get the entire bathing task done soon. Both Felicity and Elizabeth picked up their clothes, as well as Nan's and William's, and emerged from the bathroom.

* * *

A/N (1): The parts pertaining to Counselor Troi's conversation about the affair of her Betazoid mother Lwaxana and her mother's fiancé Dr. Timicin was derived from the _Star Trek: The Next Generation_ episode "Half A Life". Lwaxana Troi was very much upset about the idea of Dr. Timicin going back to his dying homeworld to voluntarily die with his kin simply because his purpose in life had reached its end. (Lwaxana's initial human husband died long ago…ELABORATE)

A/N (2): The parts pertaining to Felicity's and Elizabeth's conversation about teasing Annabelle about her engagement to Lord Harry Lacey were derived from the book _Very Funny, Elizabeth_. For the sake of [historical] convenience in an effort to have this Felicity fanfic coincide with both the Felicity series books and the _Felicity: An American Girl_ movie as best as logic would allow, I decided to place the November events of _Very Funny, Elizabeth_ a month prior to the Templeton Christmas ball [in December].

Whew! Can you imagine, I had to use approximately 6,961 words in this chapter just to describe a concept movie scene that would last about a few minutes! And it took quite a long time to describe the scene settings. I guess I just have the habit of envisioning my stories made into movies.

I apologize if I wasn't very picturesque enough with my descriptions in a charming way. For the most part I'm probably using the same boring word over and over again, though I do try to find interesting and appropriate phrases. 'Tis my hope that the descriptions will give you a picture of what the scene looks like in my creative mind.

Next Chapter: Felicity and her friends dine at Ten-Forward! Can't wait to get started writing about that! (The only problem I'm going to face is conversation topics as a fill-in to make the scenes more interesting to read and visualize in the mind.)


	10. Chapter 10

_**Star Trek: The Next Generation – Souvenirs**_

**Written By:**_** Commander Cody CC-2224**_

Author's Notes:

I had just checked out a teacher's guide to the _Felicity: An American Girl_ series books. One of the interesting activities mentioned at the near ending of the book mentioned: "Put characters from the Felicity books into situations from today." I applied this activity (only to the 24th century A.D.) when I decided to have Felicity and her friends and siblings get a teasing taste of what it's like in the 24th century. However, the 24th century has its primrose paths and danger situations (a fact I'm going to apply in the latter half of my _Star Trek: The Next Generation_ and _Felicity: An American Girl_ crossover fanfic). Just thought I should let you know.

Anyway, here comes the chapter where Felicity, her siblings, and her friends dine at Ten-Forward. As pansyphoenix said in her review on the previous chapter, they're going to have a fair lot to talk about, not to mention the types of food they'll encounter that are foreign to them. (Of course, Ben in this case seems to be the only one to try something not known in the colonial period; the rest of the children order conventional dinner meals that pertain to that period.)

* * *

CHAPTER 10

Little William and the girls moseyed back to the living area, dressed in their undergarments and their shifts draped over their bodies. Instinctively Ben turned his head and looked up.

"Well," began Ben in a sort of casual manner. "To whom do I owe the honor of meeting such fine young ladies who are dressed in nothing but their undergarments?"

"We've decided to prim ourselves in this room so you'll have a chance to take your bath," remarked Felicity sardonically. "So get your arse into the bathtub and don't dawdle."

"Yes, your Arse-ness," replied Ben in a mocking sing-song tone of voice. He was a little annoyed with the idea of being pushed around by the girls. With alacrity Ben got up from the sofa and waltzed to the bathroom, taking great strides. The doors shut automatically behind him.

"How awfully rude," remarked Elizabeth wryly while crossing her arms.

Felicity and Elizabeth first helped Nan and William get their clothes on.

"Why can't we just go to Ten-Forward ourselves?" asked William impatiently, while struggling to get his shirt on with Elizabeth's help.

"We're not allowed to go there by ourselves without a grown-up," replied Felicity, giving a quick glance at William.

"Aye," put in Elizabeth. "Children under the age of 16 are not allowed to go that place without somebody who meets that age requirement. Mr. Data said so."

"My, Elizabeth, you really are quite an observant girl," Felicity remarked. She had just finished helping Nan into her gown.

Now it was the older girls' turn to dress themselves up. Elizabeth put on her gown with a little bit of difficulty, and Felicity put on hers.

"Shall I help you with your corset, Lissie?" inquired Nan, trying to be somewhat helpful.

"Nay. 'Tis rather tiresome and painful to wear that silly old thing that prickles my bosom whenever I'm forced to bend the rest of my body."

"But Lissie, 'tis most improper for a gentlewoman not to stand or sit straight."

"Oh, come on, Nan. 'Tis rather tiresome to be proper all the time."

Nan heaved a rather disappointed sigh.

"Although a bit of modesty would be acceptable," remarked Felicity wistfully, as she let down her slightly wet auburn hair and arranged it in a fresh, becoming style.

"Aye," agreed Elizabeth, as she arranged her slightly wet blond hair in roughly the same manner as Felicity's. "Did you see how these people dress up? 'Tis most strange, indeed; I wonder if modesty in dress was thrown out of the window."

Felicity chuckled to herself. "Elizabeth, if modesty in dress wasn't observed here in its entirety, we would be seeing people on board this ship running around stark naked like crackpates."

"Lissie!" exclaimed Nan. Felicity covered her sister's mouth, not wanting to hear any more tirades about propriety for young ladies.

Elizabeth burst into a fit of giggles at the sound of that. "That's just so lewd, Lissie," she remarked.

* * *

Meanwhile Ben was in the bathroom, trying to find a way how to turn on the bathroom tub faucet. He managed to turn on the faucet in the same way Felicity did by turning the lever counterclockwise. Eyeing on the shiny aluminum faucet he stroked and caressed its smooth surface with his right hand; he had never seen anything so shiny and silvery as that.

Suddenly his daydreaming was interrupted when he remembered that he was supposed to hurry with his bath. As he hastily lifted his hand off the faucet, his fingers accidentally caught on a little round centimeter disk on top of the faucet's surface end. When the disk was lifted a stick was there attached under it, indicating that this disk was a lever handle. The result was that the sonic shower was activated, and Ben could feel himself a little bit wet before he sprinted back in time. His gaze transfixed on the blurry motion of the shower.

To Ben staring at the shower was almost like watching the rain from a stormy sky. Instinctively he put his right hand into the shower and began to experience the stimulating sensation of having his skin being lightly impacted by the gentle water droplets. Not wanting to keep the rest of the children waiting on his behalf, undressed himself with alacrity. He took off his black-brown buckled shoes, and removed his breaches, shirt, shift, and undergarments. He threw his clothes on the bathroom floor near the sink, and hurled himself into the bathtub, where this time the rest of his body was exposed to the pitter-patter effects of the sonic shower. Spotting the tube of liquid soap that Felicity used for bathing, he uncapped the tube, squeezed a light amount of the soap out of the tube, and dabbed it on his hair. He then plunged his soapy head into the shower and stroked his hair in a rapid motion.

A little while, he started noticing that the soap was only making his brown hair a tad greasy, much to his frustration. Taking notice of another tube that read "Shampoo & Conditioner" he immediately squeezed a light amount of that liquid and slathered it on his hair. To his amazed relief the effect was positive. His hair was wet, of course, but no longer greasy.

In a span of two minutes he managed to get his entire body cleaned up, using the same face towel and back scrubber that Felicity used. When he felt he was through with using the shower he hit the little round disk and the shower turned off. Then he turned the faucet lever in the clockwise direction and the faucet was completely turned off.

Shivering slightly, Ben grabbed a nearby towel and dried himself as thoroughly as he could and put on his clothes.

* * *

The older girls were almost done primming themselves when Ben stepped out of the bathroom, fully dressed.

"Ta-da!" announced Ben in a sing-song voice (high C-Major scale), his arms extending straight in the opposite directions. The children turned around suddenly.

"Well!' exclaimed Felicity. A charming smile was on her face. "I dare say you've managed to bathe yourself in only a few minutes."

"'Twas a stroke of genius," replied Ben in a jovial manner. "I just found out how to utilize the sonic shower system!"

"Good for you, Ben."

"That means I'm smarter than you, Lissie girl. Ha-ha-ha, ha-ha-ha-ha-ha," teased Ben in a singsong voice.

Felicity was inclined to say _"Well, a fat lot of good that does, because if we ever go back to our own timeline that luxury won't be there any more_", but she for now she wasn't very sure whether they all could ever go back. So she decided to refrain from speaking her thoughts about the subject.

"Ben's done! Now we can go to Ten-Forward!" exclaimed little William ecstatically, as he danced around the living area. "Yippee!"

But before the children could proceed to Ten-Forward, a seriously disturbing thought hit Ben on the head like lightning.

"Oh, cripes!" he complained in a fairly audible tone of voice. The older girls turned around, including Nan and William. Felicity's and Elizabeth's faces were filled with worry.

"You know, it just dawned on me," remarked Ben, trying to control his frustration.

"What is it?" asked Felicity.

"We don't have any money. Or anything to barter with. How are we going to pay the food bill in Ten-Forward if we're asked to? I don't even know what kind of currency they use in this timeline."

"I don't know, Ben," replied Felicity, with an air of uncertainty. "I think we'll all just have to take our chances on this one."

"Well, 'tis no good having to dwell on troubles like that for the time being," remarked Ben wryly. He regained his composure. "All of you ladies ready to go?"

"Aye," replied Felicity and Elizabeth together.

"Nan?" Ben said, looking at Felicity's younger sister. Nan nodded.

"William?"

"I'm all set, Benster," replied William playfully.

"Good." He approached the entranceway of the guest quarters, tapped the touch-button to unlock the doors, and the doors opened in the opposite directions. He positioned himself in the right side of the open doorway facing outside the room. "This way, ladies," he said courteously, while extending his right hand in a gentlemanly manner as the girls daintily flounced out of the room, followed by Nan and William.

* * *

The five children were now outside the guest quarters, in one of the corridors of the Galaxy-class saucer section. Unfortunately a confused look on Ben's face indicated that he had almost no idea how to get to Ten-Forward.

"Well, the Counselor said that Ten-Forward, or whatever it's called, is down this corridor and into the right end. Sooo…" Ben broke off as he attempted to point out which direction it was they were supposed to take. "She says it's…this way," he declared finally pointing his right index finger to the direction right of the guest quarters' entranceway and took a step forward. The rest of the children followed suit.

The reason Counselor Troi gave the aforementioned directions was because Guest Room 313 was located on the starboard side of the Galaxy-class saucer section. As they strolled through the slightly curved corridor, they were taken notice by a female human in a light-blue Starfleet jumpsuit uniform, an indication that she was one of the Astrophysics Lab personnel. Her blond hair was pinned up in the form of a ponytail, and, much to the chagrin of Elizabeth and Nan, who were more inclined to observe the 18th rules of propriety for proper young ladies (and perhaps to Felicity as well), her hair was uncovered. Her face, however, did indicate a fairly friendly demeanor as she greeted them.

"Good day, children," she said charmingly.

"Good day, ma'am," Ben replied, tipping his tricorn hat.

"Good day, Miss," greeted Felicity. She bobbed a curtsy.

Elizabeth, who was not as outgoing as Felicity was, shied a little bit. "Good day, ma'am" she said sheepishly.

"Might I inquire as to where you're off to?"

"Ten-Forward, ma'am," replied Ben

Hmm. Children aren't usually allowed in Ten-Forward without the supervision of an adult."

"I'm sixteen. The captain and Mr. Data, or whatever he's called, says I qualify."

"Oh. I see. And what are you doing in these fancy costumes," the lady asked cheekily. "Are you having a fashion show?"

Ben was rather hesitant to reply, as he didn't want to go through a very lengthy explanation about how they managed to end up being on the Enterprise, since their clothes indicated very strongly of another era. So he tried to be as casual as he could, without uttering any "ums" or "uhs"

"You could say that," replied Ben as flowingly as he could.

The woman shrugged. "Oh. Very well, then. I guess I'd better get back to the Astrophysics Lab. Good day, children."

"Good day, ma'am," returned Ben.

As the children continued on their way, the older girls, including Nan, gossiped amongst themselves about how the woman looked.

"My, did you see the way she dressed?" whispered Elizabeth.

"'Tis most improper," put in Nan. As usual, she was quick to point out improperness in people who didn't conform to the conventions of late 18th century fashions.

Felicity remembered the time when she put on Ben's breeches when she went on her little escapades to help Penny when she was mistreated on Mr. Nye's pasture grounds. On account of that, the thought of women wearing pants in the future almost mattered little to her.

"I don't see anything wrong with that," replied Felicity, whose voice was fairly audible to Elizabeth and Nan. "I'd be almost inclined to wear something like that."

"Lissie!" gasped Nan. Felicity shrugged her shoulders, as if she never cared what Nan said to her.

"It wouldn't be a good idea to be perceived as a boy when you are actually a girl," remarked Elizabeth.

"Perhaps you're right," replied Felicity. "I'd look bloody awful in that."

"That's rather unusual of you to say," declared Ben. "Two years ago you wished you could dress up in men's breeches," he finished, laughing.

"True," put in Felicity. "But I think I might have changed a little bit."

"Lissie," remarked Ben. "As I recall, you always disliked change."

"Well," replied Felicity, shrugging her shoulders. "I guess Mother told me that change is not something to run away from."

As the children were nearing to their designated left turn, Ben was the first to notice a Negroid human in a yellow Starfleet uniform turning on the T-junction of the corridor they were on. He was within a stone's throw's distance from the children.

"Speaking of change, I'm at odds to know why there's a black man wearing some kind of uniform," murmered Ben, as he had a skeptical look on his face. The rest of the children looked in the same direction Ben was facing.

The man had a shiny bald head and a slightly tall face. He greeted them as courteously as he could.

"Good day, little ones," he said in a deep baritone voice.

"Um, good day, sir," greeted Ben, being a little confused. The rest of the children were a little too shocked to return the greeting, except for Felicity, who greeted him back with a smile that perhaps hinted uncertainty and bobbed a curtsy as usual. The man greeted her back and simply shrugged his shoulders, as he seemed to be in quite a hurry to get to wherever he was going.

"I wonder how's that possible," declared Felicity.

"Dunno," replied Ben in a rather casual tone of voice. "Perhaps the black slaves were freed."

Elizabeth shuddered a little. Back in Colonial America, white people were usually fearful of uprisings caused by black people. "Is he going to hurt us the next time we see him?" she asked, rather fearfully.

Elizabeth's question was answered in a matter-of-fact way when the children made their left turn to the other corridor.

"I don't think he would," replied Felicity in a rather hesitant manner. Having experienced black people when she knew Marcus, the servant who assisted Mr. Merriman at the General Store, she decided to take a chance with him.

"I wouldn't put it past me," remarked Ben. "But if we leave him alone he'll leave us alone."

"But if he doesn't…" Felicity put in. Then she shook off the worry. "Well, we've got Ben, haven't we, Elizabeth?" she said to her friend in the attempt of reassuring each other.

"Aye," replied Elizabeth, smiling. "But what if Ben can't stop him?"

"He's a strong lad," said Felicity, putting her arm around her friend. "He can…"

"You won't have to worry about that, girls," declared Ben. "If you remember the Golden Rule…"

"Do unto others…" interrupted Felicity.

"…As you would have them do unto you," finished Nan.

"Precisely," replied Ben. "If you treat them in a courteous manner, they'll be inclined to do the same for you, too. Lissie was kind enough to give us a demonstration of that point."

"But to be on the safe side," said Elizabeth, "I think we should refrain from talking about this in front of any black person we encounter on this ship. I have a strong feeling they might not take it lightly in this timeline."

"Why?" asked William rather curiously.

"Well, because…"

"Because the blacks have always been the white man's servants for a long time," replied Felicity. "And they know it. Therefore I suspect they would be rather sensitive about this circumstance. Not that I'm wishing for this to be the case. No offense, Ben."

"Point taken, Lissie. But your friend is right. We'll refrain from such issues for the time being until we can get an expert to explain the affair. Right now we don't want any trouble on our hands, especially that we're new here. Agreed?"

The rest of the children nodded their heads in agreement.

In a few moments, after taking a right turn to another corridor, the children arrived at the entrance doors of the Ten-Forward lounge. Ben approached the entranceway and the doors slid open automatically in the usual opposite directions. In his usual gentlemanly fashion, he ushered them, extending his right hand into the room.

"This way, ladies," he said, as Felicity, Elizabeth, and Nan entered in. "And gentleman," he added, as William strutted to the lounge.

* * *

Ten-Forward was the hub of virtually all social activity on board the _Enterprise_. The room was as large as the patio of the Templeton's mansion, only a tad bigger. The room itself was fairly lighted; not too bright, and not too dark. Most of the areas in the room were somewhat dark, though the darkness was broken up by fluorescent lights scattered in certain areas of the room, giving the environment a rather cozy setting.

The entire room had two doors, one on the port side and one on the starboard side; the door that the children entered through was on the port side. The room was quadrilateral; except for a slight curve in the front, with the huge windows displaying a panoramic view of the starry space. At the aft end of the room was the bar, with a long U-shaped table with a smooth, shiny flat surface that glistened in the fluorescent light. Its arms bending 30 degrees to the back, where the bartender usually stood, and a row of backless standing seats were neatly lined alongside the table.

At the front of the room was the lounge area, located near the huge glass windows, which held a hodgepodge of tables which had the same surface as that of the bar's, and some rather comfortable, plush leather seats, though some of them had fabric linings on their horizontal middles. Ten-Forward was not usually crowded, except on special occasions; when the children entered, a fair handful of individuals comprising of a diversity of Starfleet and civilian personnel, both of human and alien origins, were present.

The children meandered to the bar table and immediately set themselves to placing their dinner menu orders. Ben, being new here, was rather uncertain as to the kinds of food that was served on board, and, wanting to satisfy his craving to try something new, if there was anything new, inclined himself to observing the customers taking their newly-ordered meals to the lounge section. At the back end of the bar a dark-skinned woman, clad in a slightly loose, flowing garments of a grayish-purplish color and wearing a fancy turban of fairly distended proportions of the same hue as that of her garments, shed her watchful gaze on the children with a peculiar and rather inscrutable interest.

Both Felicity and Elizabeth seemed to have no trouble what to order for their dinner mealtime. Felicity was somewhat inclined to burst out in a rather hasty manner over the counter. But she remembered Mrs. Merriman telling her not to engage in hasty actions without thinking, and that was especially somewhat true when she was dealing with the unknown. So she acted as ladylike as she could in placing her order. Elizabeth was waiting for her turn. Nan and William would place their order under their older sister's supervision.

The barman, a young Caucasian man in his late 20's, who wore a blue-green jumpsuit, as part of the uniform for the bar personnel, came up to the area of the counter where the children were standing. His face had a drawling appearance, and his hair was of much darker color that Ben's. In the background a dark-skinned African-American barmaid in the same uniform color as that of the barman was working at one of the huge replicator niches. She was about the same age as the barman, but a little younger. Her curly, wavy brown-black hair waved sensuously about her as she went to and fro from one replicator niche to another.

"Evenin', folks," the barman greeted genially in a mildly drawling voice. "Thuh way yer dressed tells me you've been havin' a hell uv a lot uh fun in one uh them hollidecks, dramatizin' sum uv Uhmericuh's kulonial events. S'that so?"

The children were at odds to know what a holodeck even was. Ben decided to answer on their behalf.

"You could say that," Ben replied in a rather vague manner. He tried to keep a straight face, though Felicity could notice that there was something in Ben's face that told her that he didn't know jack what the barman was talking about.

"Hmm…Damn right I cud," the barman replied slightly drawlingly. Then he eyed the children rather suspiciously. "Or perhaps sumthin' tells me that you've cum frum another timeline."

At the sound of this Felicity recoiled, wide-eyed. _This was no time for discussing timeline affairs_, she thought to herself. _The children are hungry, and so am I. So let's please get down to business!_

"Yeah…well, by the looks uv it, prhaps that cud be th'case," remarked the barman tersely. "Oh, well; haven't got time fur these timeline tarradiddles, anyway. Have ya made up yer mind as to what tuh order for th'grand uccayshun?" he asked, facing Ben.

"Um, I haven't thought of what I'll order for dinner as of yet," replied Ben.

"Well, make up yer mind, 'cuz there's loads of other folk waitin' in line," declared the barman. He turned to Felicity. "And what you like to order for th'grand uccayshun, li'l Miss?" he asked, forcing a smile on his otherwise drawling face.

_Finally!_ Felicity thought to herself with relief. With fairly ladylike composure, she put her clasped hands across the illuminated bar counter and flashed a sweet smile on him. "I would like some English beef stew, a plain potato, and some apple cobbler," Felicity requested. She remembered eating something like that at home; it was a favorite meal for her. The barman listed the order on his electronic PADD.

"Listed. Next." The barman motioned the next person in line with a cursory sweep of his left hand, which Elizabeth could perceive as somewhat rude, much to her mild dismay.

"That was quick," remarked Felicity, feeling quite relieved that she didn't have to go through seemingly complicated meal specifications.

Elizabeth serenely placed her order in a fairly calculated manner. Felicity could see that her friend's savoir faire was developing quite nicely. "Two mincemeat pies," she enunciated in her excellent British lilt.

"What kaiynduh paiys?" inquired the Barman.

"Well, what do you have on the menu that's for mincemeat pies?" Elizabeth asked sweetly.

"Well, we have ground sawsage, ground hawt dawg, ground chicken, ground turkey, ground beef, ya names it," replied the barman. As a side remark, he added, "There's also meat paiys that cum with 'em veggies, too, ya know."

Being rather bright, Elizabeth was able to interpret that the term "veggies" meant the vegetables that would be stuffed into the pies. However, she was rather uncertain about what kinds of vegetables would be put in, and she had concerns that she would not like such a pie very much. So she decided to have hers plain.

"Um, I think I'll take just the meat pies with none of the vegetables, thank you very much," said Elizabeth in a pleasantly cordial manner. "The one with the English beef."

"Very well," replied the barman, as he listed that order on the PADD.

Nan was next. "I'll have the same thing Lissie is having," she blurted out.

"Who the hell is Lissie?" inquired the barman, narrowing his eyes at Nan.

"This is Lissie," replied Nan, pointing at her older sister. "You know, Miss Felicity Merriman."

"Nan!" snapped Felicity in a whispering tone of voice, as she bent over near her younger sister. "There's no need to give me away!" Nan innocently shrugged her shoulders. Felicity simply heaved a heavy, exasperated sigh.

"Oh, that's her," remarked the barman. "Ya mean the Inglish beef stew, the tater, and the apple cobbler?"

Nan nodded, and flashed an irresistibly charming smile of childlike innocence at the barman.

"Very well," he replied, listing the order on his PADD. "Next." He performed the same cursory motion of his left hand as a means of motioning the next person in line.

William was next, but the last, as there were a meager handful of customers comprised of a hodgepodge of Starfleet personnel and civilians waiting in a thin, informal, broken-up line. "I'd like the mincemeat pies and the apple butter," he blurted out.

"What kaiynd?"

"Uh, the one with ham and sausages," replied William.

"Mixed?"

William nodded in assent.

"Okay," the barman replied, listing that order on his PADD. Finally he turned to Ben, who was intently spying on the other customers at the right end of the bar table. About 2 meter and half from where he was standing, Ben had just spotted someone toting a foam tray of crispy sautéed chicken tenders with creamy white ranch sauce, and an ample amount of lightly salted French fries.

"I'll have the same thing that guy has," declared Ben, pointing at the Starfleet crewman in yellow uniform, carrying the foam tray filled with chicken tenders.

"Ohhh," replied the barman. "Ya mean thuh crispy, sawteed chicken tendurs dipped in genuine buttermilk ranch dip and them French fraiys?"

"What are the chicken tenders?"

"Oh, they're the ones that get coated with a crunchy surface, ya know.

"And the French fries?"

"Cut potatoes, which are baked until they turn golden crispy, and are lightly salted to give 'em a tasty flavor," said the barman. He instinctively smacked his lips. "Yum."

"I think I'll try that," declared Ben.

"How many pieces?"

"Uh, four; no, five pieces."

"Okay, declared the barman, listing the order on his PADD. He approached the barmaid, handed the PADD over, and walked back to the bar counter to deal with the other customers. The children sauntered to the left diagonalized end of the bar counter as the barmaid took a fairly thorough glance it the PADD and started inputting commands in the replicator.

"So what do we do now?" asked William.

"We wait," replied Ben in a rather casual tone of voice as he shrugged his shoulders.

In about a couple of minutes, the children's dinner meals were materialized from the replicator and brought over to the area where they were on two shiny, metallic-looking plastic trays.

"Thank you," said Ben, in a voice that hinted sincere gratitude. The barmaid smiled, and was about to resume working on the replicator when Ben fired off a question to her.

"Uh, ma'am?"

The barmaid faced him with her ebony black eyes, which seemed to be sprinkled with a tinge of chocolate coloring. "Hmm?"

"Do we have to pay for all this?"

"No. It's all free," replied the barmaid, instinctively doing eyelash bats at him.

"You sure?"

The barmaid cast a suspicious glance at Ben. "You sound rather strange, sir," she remarked. "Are you new here?"

"Just wondering. We are kind of new here."

"Don't worry. Of course it's free."

"How's that possible?"

Felicity was getting rather impatient of Ben's queries and took his arm. "Ben," she pleaded. "Don't make us wait for you. You can discuss all of this later."

"All right, Lissie," replied Ben, heaving a sigh of exasperation.

"Hang on," commanded the barmaid. She ducked into the one of the cabinets in the bar table and dished out a handful of white square dining linens. "You children might be wanting this, so that you don't mess up your fine costumes. Compliment of Ten-Forward.

"Thank you," returned Ben. He was being led by Felicity to the lounge area, where the children would be seated. "Perhaps next time," he called out.

The barmaid waved him off, plaited her hair with both of her hands, and flounced away, resuming her work on the replicator.

The five spritely children managed to find a comfortable table area to sit in the middle of the lounge area in close proximity to one of the huge observation windows. After they placed their newly-ordered dinner meals on a 3x4 ft. table, which was positioned near the center of one of the huge windows, they began pulling up some 5 chairs and positioned them near the table. Then, under the directions of Ben, each of the children promptly took their seats.

"I have to admit, she does look remarkably attractive, even for a black," remarked Ben.

Felicity looked at him rather wryly and poked his nose in a teasing manner. "Now don't you start, Benjamin Davidson."

"What? Are you prejudiced against dark-skinned people?"

Felicity gasped in shock. "Ben Davidson! How dare you imply such a thing!" she exclaimed. Then she resumed her composure. "No, Ben. It's just that…" she broke off as she helped the other children arrange the chairs.

Felicity resumed her sentence. "…It's that, well, I'm almost totally in love with you, Ben, and I would hate to see you run off with another girl," she said in a manner that strongly hinted a longing for him.

Ben chuckled to himself. "Felicity Merriman," he said to her in a reassuring tone of voice, "I do not think that's likely to happen, given that I love you too much. It just seems awfully hard to refuse you."

The children took their seats. Arranged in a clockwise direction starting from Ben, who sat at the end of the table facing the bar counter, with his back on the one of the middle observation windows, were Felicity and Nan, who sat on his left side, and William and Elizabeth, who were at his right side. Both (Felicity and Elizabeth sat close to Ben.)

"Wow, Lissie, look!" exclaimed Nan, pointing at the starry blackness of space moving forward slowly at them.

"Aye," replied Felicity, as she worked on spreading the large napkin on her younger sister's pretty gown. Felicity did the same, too. "'Tis very beautiful, indeed."

"I should think so," remarked Elizabeth pleasurably. "The night sky does provide a very homely surrounding."

The children were about to start on dinner when Nan broke the silence.

"Don't we usually say grace?" she, who was particularly concerned about observing the traditions taking place in a family dinner back in their timeline.

"Usually, but Father or Mother isn't here with us," replied Felicity wistfully. "So as the oldest among us, 'twill be up to him."

"So he'll have to be head of this family now?" inquired Nan.

Felicity nodded. "Aye, 'tis so," she remarked. Then she turned to Ben. "Will you do us the honors?"

"Honors of what?" asked Ben, wide-eyed.

"Of saying the family grace before we start on our dinner, of course," replied Felicity, smiling instinctively. It seemed a little hilarious for her to suggest that.

"Very well," replied Ben casually. He crossed his hands as he struggled to find the right words.

"Lord, we thank for this food, and…" began Ben. He sighed in frustration, as he had difficulty finding the right words. He was usually quiet around people, so he wasn't all that used to uttering many words, unless he faced a confrontation. He faced Felicity. "All right, Lissie, why don't you do us the honors?" he asked, trying to control himself.

Felicity was a little concerned about Ben releasing his bouts of frustration at the rest of the children, and thus ending up spoiling the rest of the evening. So despite her flighty personality she recovered her composure and made an attempt to recite the prayers of thanksgiving as best as she could. However, her lively voice, filled with spunk, was betraying what the rest of her friends and siblings, save for Ben, who wasn't all that particular about how grace was said, perceived as woeful irreverence.

"Dear Lord, we thank you for…" began Felicity when William interrupted her with his snickering. She flounced at William. "What's so funny?" she snapped.

"You don't sound very pious about your prayers," replied William, as he couldn't help giggling to himself.

"I think he's right," put in Nan solemnly. "It sounds too jittery for reverence."

Felicity heaved an exasperated sigh. She was anxious to get a hold of her dinner, and for her this was no time for giving qualms to grace before meals. She turned to Elizabeth.

"Elizabeth," asked Felicity sweetly, "Will you do us the honor of reciting our grace?"

"I-I'd love to, but…" faltered Elizabeth. Back in the colonial period, it was usually the head of the family, the father, who usually presided in the prayers. Women did not usually take charge in these things unless the husband was absent.

"…'Tis quite unusual for me to recite these things, Lissie."

"You have a sweet voice," declared Felicity. "And you are quite reverent in almost everything," she added, trying to encourage her friend to do it.

"Um, all right," replied Elizabeth timidly. She was not as outgoing as Felicity was, and was often shy in front of other people. It took a bit of time for her to muster up her courage to recite the grace, much to the fidgety impatience of William and the exasperation of Nan.

"Dear Lord," she began. Despite her timid approach, it was enunciated very well, with a tinge of her British lilt. "We thank you for this bountiful dinner we're having in Ten-Forward." In the background William was giggling to himself. Felicity cast him a disapproving look.

"The setting is so homely," continued Elizabeth. "And most of us are together; well, except for my family members and those of my best friend, though I pray for their safety. Help us to be grateful for whatever we're having for dinner, as well as for each other." During that period the rest of the children had their heads bowed in prayer, and their hands clasped on the surface of the table.

"Amen," concluded Elizabeth. The children repeated the same word again together. Elizabeth could feel herself blushing, but Felicity gave her a look of assurance, and she returned the compliment with a smile. Each of the girls took one of the napkins and spread it on their gowns. The boys did the same thing, too.

Ben's mouth watered at the sight of the chicken tenders, French fries, and ranch dip he ordered. So did the rest of the children's. Given his state of hunger, Ben dipped one of the crusty tenders into the buttermilk ranch and took a bite. The ranch dip had a creamy, salty taste. He took a handful of the French fries, dipped two of the sticks into the dip, and nibbled on them with great relish.

The rest of the children dug into their dinner meals. Elizabeth immediately got started on one of her mincemeat pies and daintily took a bite. William did the same thing as well, except he was a little hasty with it. Felicity and Nan plunged their metallic spoons into their beef stew.

Ben cleared his throat. "Um, Elizabeth?"

Elizabeth looked up while daintily chewing on a small bite of her mincemeat pie. "Hmm?"

"What do you mean, you pray for their safety? In this century, they're dead. Gone."

"Really," asked Elizabeth in a voice that hinted anxiety.

"'Twould be the case," replied Ben, as he shrugged his shoulders in a rather casual manner. "No one lives forever, you know."

Felicity turned on him. "Benjamin Davidson! How could you be so insensitive?" she snapped.

"I'm a boy, Lissie, not a girl," replied Ben indignantly. "You can't really expect me to act like a goody-two-shoes."

"Nay, I do not expect you to act like one," said Felicity as her voiced softened. "But I do expect you to have some sense of propriety when it comes to interacting with young ladies."

"Thbbbttthhh" snorted Ben. "Coming from you, Lissie, I think everyone's going to view you as a hypocrite."

Felicity faced Ben. "And why, pray tell?"

"Well, because you're not known to have a sense of propriety within yourself. Your mother almost always seemed to complain about that."

"That's true," put in Nan.

Felicity was beginning to feel her cheeks reddening out of embarrassment.

"Now look who's blushing," teased Ben, wagging his right index finger at Felicity.

Suddenly an idea came into Felicity's mind. She started looking at the chicken tenders and the French fries with longing eyes of fascination.

"Wow. Who knew chicken tenders and French fries could taste that good?" said Felicity. "Is that what they're called?"

"Aye," replied Ben, as he munched on one of the tenders and French fries..

"May I give one of them a try?" she asked sweetly.

Ben goggled. "Hey, you've got your own food!" he exclaimed instinctively. Suddenly he realized how hard it was to refuse Felicity, as she gave him a look that indicated pouting. He was inclined to think that she was just being plain silly, but the last thing he wanted was someone bothering him over his food.

"Sorry, Lissie," he replied, heaving a sigh. "All right. There's the sauce in there, in case you happen to fancy eating some of that food dipped in. I'll get more. I might as well get drinks while I'm at it."

Felicity smiled at him and took one of the chicken tenders and dipped it in the ranch sauce while Ben moseyed off the bar counter to place another request for the same meal he was having. In about a minute he was back, carrying another foam tray filled with several of the same sautéed chicken tenders, fries and buttermilk ranch dip. He went back to the bar table and came back to the table with another tray carrying dark blue mugs filled nearly to the brim with apple cider. After placing both trays on his seating area on the table, Ben took the time to pass around the mugs.

When he got himself seated back he scooped a few of the tenders and placed some of them on the other tray near Felicity.

"Thank you, Ben," said Felicity, beaming at him. "You are very kind."

"No problem," replied Ben, as he resumed to finishing his dinner meal. He grabbed his mug and took a calm sip. "That's apple cider, by the way," he remarked.

"Thank you, Ben," chimed in each of the children at different random intervals.

"Cheers," announced Felicity, raising her mug. Elizabeth tapped her mug lightly on Felicity's and Ben did the same thing. Then Nan and William followed suit.

The children continued on their dinner meals, while engaging in their usual lively conversation.

"You know, Ben, 'tis so nice to have you here with us," remarked Felicity, as she beamed at him.

"Aye," piped up Nan. "I agree with you, Lissie. Even if he's troublesome." Felicity muffled her mouth as she giggled. William assented with a shrug as he continued shoving bites of his mincemeat pie into his little mouth.

Ben's eyes widened a bit. Whatever food he had in his mouth, he shoved it down his throat before he could speak.

"For you, it is," he replied. "As for Miss Cole, well, that remains to be seen, given that we're on opposite political sides."

Felicity turned to her friend. "What do you think, Elizabeth?" she asked.

"Well, I don't mind him one bit," replied Elizabeth. "Even if he's a Patriot."

"Which brings me to ask one question," put in Ben. "In this century, does everyone identify each other as Patriots or Loyalists?"

"No," replied a fairly deep, feminine, Southern-like voice from behind.

The children turned to see who it was. It was the same dark-skinned woman clad in loose flowing semi-coarse garments and turban. She forced a smile.

"Who are you?" asked Ben in an inquisitive tone of voice that seemed to hint both a feeling of astonishment and annoyance.

"My name is Guinan," she replied calmly.

"Gui-what?" piped up William.

"Yes. Guinan is the name. I'm the bartender of Ten-Forward."

"Pray, where did you come from?" inquired Felicity. "From the Colonies? Or rather from one of them?"

"Judging by the way you kids are dressed, I would assume that you mean the thirteen colonies of the American continent belonging to planet earth. Actually…" she paused, as if she was waiting for the reactions of the colonial children, "I'm an El Aurian from a planet in the the El Aurian system."

"Where's that?" asked Elizabeth rather shyly.

"Oh, nearly eleven light years from Earth."

The children could not help but stare inquisitively and almost annoyingly at Guinan, since it was rather unusual for them to have a conversation with an individual with a different skin color. It wouldn't be all that surprising that Guinan suspected this attitude.

" If my presence seriously disturbs you, I can leave," said Guinan in a calm tone of voice.

"Well, uh…" began Ben, sputtering. Felicity cast a solemn look at him. "You can stay, if you wish."

"Very well," replied Guinan. "I'll have to leave soon anyway to tend to the other customers." She took a seat at the corner near William. "What are your names?" she asked.

The children individually introduced their first and last names.

"I see," replied Guinan. "Such homely names." Then she turned to Ben. "So what brings you to the _Enterprise_, Mr. Davidson?".

"Well, we…" Ben was rather hesitant to divulge more information, but he continued. "…We got kidnapped by aliens, or foreigners, or whatever you call them."

"The same thing could be said of me," returned Guinan. "You see, I was on a refugee ship, the _S.S. Lakul_, when it got caught in the space Nexus."

"What's that?" asked Felicity.

"It's a place where people, once they get a taste of being near, will want with all their hearts to go to it."

"Oh," replied Felicity. "Hmm. Sounds like Gulliver's Travels."

"Maybe. Some aspects of the book might be similar to what I've encountered."

Then Guinan eyed Ben squarely in the face. "You seem to be quite a ladies' man, Mr. Davidson," she remarked. "Since when did you get so popular with the girls?"

"Oh…well…" began Ben. He was usually shy around girls, but even after he got to know Felicity for quite a long time, he was rather hesitant to discuss this topic. "Well, I guess I'm pretty handsome," he replied in a matter-of-fact way.

Felicity leaned close to Elizabeth. "And this handsomeness is what got Annabelle Bananabelle to have a crush with him!" she whispered in her ear. Elizabeth grinned, and both girls burst into a muffled fit of giggles.

"I heard you," said Guinan tersely as she turned to face the older girls. Both Felicity and Elizabeth faced her, shocked. "You're saying that Mr. Davidson has a girl who is falling in love with him?"

"Aye," put in Nan. "Lissie."

"Who's Lissie?"

"This one, my older sister," she replied, pointing at Felicity with a mischievous smile. "It's her nickname. She has the crush with Ben."

"Nan!" exclaimed Felicity indignantly.

Guinan shook her head. "But according to what I've heard from you two older girls, Ben has another girl that's in love with him by the name of Annabelle Bananabelle. Now that's awful weird."

"Her actual name is Annabelle Cole," replied Elizabeth. "She's my older sister."

"Who's terribly snooty," put in Felicity.

"Interesting," remarked Guinan sarcastically. "Well where is the girl?"

Felicity leaned closer to Ben. "Are you sure we're supposed to tell her that we're from another timeline?" she whispered.

"If she could already hear you talking about Miss Annabelle Cole, then I suppose it would do us no good to keep it to ourselves. That darkie's got good ears."

Guinan narrowed her eyes a bit. "When were you?"

"Excuse me?" asked Ben.

"What is the exact date where you came from in time?"

Ben turned to Felicity, wondering if he should divulge further information to the strange woman. Felicity nodded, as if to allow Ben to proceed further.

"The second of April, one thousand, seven-hundred and seventy-six." Ben stated.

Guinan widened her eyes. "I'll be damned," she remarked wryly. "That's three months prior to the signing of the Declaration of Independence."

"What's that?" piped Felicity.

"Whoops." Guinan gasped, wide-eyed, abruptly placing her right hand over her mouth. She regained her composure. "Sorry. The Temporal Prime Directive prohibits future information being disseminated among people of the past."

At this statement Felicity heaved an upsetting sigh. But an idea came to her, so she pulled herself together.

"What kind of animals are there in this timeline?" she asked Guinan. Given her love for nature, she was rather curious about the animal species of the 24th century.

"Oh, many kinds," replied Guinan cryptically. "Oh, the species are not just limited to Earth, Miss Merriman. There are all sorts of animals, some gentle, others just plain carnivorous. There's the Romulan Targ, the Klingon Dog…"

"Eww," said Nan, disgusted at the sounds. "That sounds quite awful."

And of course, there are gentle, fluffy animals called Tribbles."

At the sound of this, Nan gave a look of surprised, elated astonishment.

"What are those?" asked Elizabeth.

"They're basically animate balls of fur, similar to porcupines, except they're quite pleasurable and cuddly."

"Wow, I'd like to see one for myself," said Elizabeth.

"Well, perhaps when you're a little more oriented with this space vessel," replied Guinan, as her voice drifted away. "I've got to get back to the bar. Most of those animals won't be found on board, but you can get a feel of what they're like one of the holodecks."

"We'll bear that in mind," replied Ben. "Nice meeting you."

The children waved back in a courteous manner and resumed to eating their dinner meals. Guinan flounced away to the bar area, where she usually worked.

"Very intriguing, that dark-skinned woman," remarked Elizabeth.

"I'm curious as to what this Declaration of Independence thing," Felicity said wistfully.

"Declaration of Independence?" asked Elizabeth, dumbfounded.

"Haven't heard of that," replied Ben, shrugging. "I'm at odds to know what the significance of that document is."

"Well, she did make an implication that something would be done with that document three months later. That is, after the month that we were abducted by those weird-looking foreigners."

"Corellians?"

"Whatever they're called," sighed Felicity. "Anyway, the name of that document tells me that something like that can only stem from the colonists who are Patriots."

"It's a document of rebellion, then," murmured Elizabeth, as she felt a cold chill running through her spine which made her shudder in fear.

"Oh, why does she have to keep us in the dark?" complained Felicity as she fidgeted her fingers involuntarily. "My mind keeps racing about this thing, and I'm not allowed to ask too many questions about the future."

"I don't know, Lissie, but perhaps that would be a good thing," Elizabeth put in. She looked worried and pretty timid. "If we knew what was going to happen…"

"You'd be seriously disturbed," cut in Ben.

"Ben, 'tis rude to interrupt," said Elizabeth, who was getting rather irritated of what Ben was doing. Elizabeth was not one to get snappy in front of other people, given that her personality was not particularly brave as Felicity's, but knowing Ben pretty well, she felt reasonably relaxed.

While the girls were conversing with each other on the seemingly mysterious document, Nan was observing the mood around the Ten-Forward lounge. If there were any Starfleet personnel present in the room, it was that they were gossiping to each other about how ignorant the children were of the Declaration of Independence. Every American child was familiar with that pivotal historical document that changed the course of American history, they said, and these children, who looked American, could not even know jack about that document. Nan could see the personnel and the civilians staring intently at her, as well as the rest of the children.

"Lissie, I think I see some people looking at us," said Nan.

"Oh, come on, Nan," replied Felicity, as soothingly as she could to her younger sister. "

"Aye, but they're looking at us with a very intense interest, as if we're unusual to them. It's very disturbing."

Immediately Felicity turned to Ben. "Ben," she began. "There are some people in this room who are staring at us."

"So what?" asked Ben, a little anxious. "Let them. If you think you're starting to get seriously disturbed…

"It is disturbing!" Felicity snapped quietly, in the form of a whisper. She pulled herself closer to Ben and leaned close to his face. "I have a bad feeling that they're hearing every word we're saying. And something tells me it's not good. We'd better stop having this conversation." She sat back in her chair.

"Girls…" groaned Ben, as he reclined to the back of his chair with his head resting atop both of his hands. "Tsk tsk tsk…such sensitive creatures…" he sighed.

But little Nan was right. Nearly a large percentage of the Starfleet personnel present in the room were gossiping quite audibly to each other about how ignorant the children were in basic American history events. The situation was almost too much for the children to bear that Ben had to find some method of explaining away their apparent ignorance.

"We're, uh, rehearsing for a play," replied Ben, announcing it fairly across the room.

"Well, do it quietly!" exclaimed the senior crewman, in an indignant manner. "You're freaking some of the other customers out by your audacious display of ignorance on the most basic events of American history!"

Ben acknowledged this slightly disgruntled command with a cursory nod, sat back on his chair, and resumed his meal.

"That should at least keep him off our backs," muttered Ben.

"Now I'm starting to feel uncomfortable," said Elizabeth.

"Don't worry, Elizabeth," assured Felicity, whispering. "If they make snide comments about you, I'll personally stand up to them and tell them to mind their own business!"

"Sure," laughed Ben, chewing on the last of his chicken tenders and fries.

Felicity immediately stood up on the table and gave him a solemn look. The same look that she gave him when he was confronted by her for his foolishness in running away from his apprentice with Mr. Merriman to join the Continental Army of the Republic. "I can," she declared curtly. "And I will."

"Oh, come on, Lissie," replied Ben in an insensitive attitude. "Seriously. This is our first time on board the _Enterprise_, and you're gonna cause loads of trouble just to protect your honor and the honor of your best friend?"

Felicity realized that her foolhardy actions would get not only her, but the rest of her siblings and friends in trouble with Starfleet security. She sat back down on her chair.

The children were busy with dinner when a young lieutenant in light blue uniform stepped into Ten-Forward and approached the children.

"Are you almost finished?" he asked in a rather superior and slightly cold tone of voice. "The Chief Medical Officer is anxious to get started on you five youngsters."

"Almost," replied Ben, as he munched on a handful of French fries.

"Well that's bloody good news," declared the lieutenant discourteously. "Dr. Crusher told me to check on you five. I'm to accompany you to the Biomedical Lab on Deck 12 when you're finished."

"Fine with us," shrugged Ben. The lieutenant managed to find a table near the area of the lounge where the children were seated.

William was starting to have difficulty finishing his mincemeat pie. "Oh, I don't think I can finish this," he groaned.

Felicity scowled at him. "You will finish that pie, William, or else I will personally shove it down your throat if I have to! Just because we're in a different timeline doesn't mean we should waste food!"

"I suppose I could give that a try," said Ben. He immediately got up from the table, took a fork, grabbed William's pie tray and devoured the last remmants of the mincemeat pie, much to William's apparent dismay.

"You said you couldn't finish the entire pie," Ben said to William. "I just saved you the trouble of having to finish the entire pie itself."

William heaved a sigh, and Ben went back to his seating area.

Felicity was in the midst of gulping down the last remnants of her apple cobbler. "Mmm. I have to admit, I have never tasted apple cobbler this delicious in my entire life," she said.

"Really?" asked Ben inquisitively. "Then this replicated stuff must taste a whole lot better than the ones at home."

"Perhaps," replied Felicity. "But I think I like Mother's apple cobbler better."

"Simply because 'tis homemade?"

Felicity beamed at him. "Aye," she replied sweetly.

* * *

Well! That's one hell of a chapter done over with! On my Microsoft Word document, it measures at least 25 pages long! Now we get to the part where Dr. Crusher does further examination on our colonial visitors. This should be fun, If I know how to present the circumstance in a manner that is fairly believable in the realm of sci-fi. The next chapter will indeed take a long time to furnish, as I will have to do further research on the techno and bio stuff, not to mention the impressive and fairly believable technobabble I have to make the characters say. So please bear with me, as the writer's block and the business of schoolwork is a constant thing I have to battle with when it comes to writing fanfiction.

A/N: As to the conversation about the black people the colonial children are holding in this story, it may seem that these children are holding personal prejudices (though it is unclear whether Felicity, and her friends and siblings espoused such prejudices blatantly in the Felicity series books, and in the Felicity movie). Bear in mind that these children have just crossed into another culture. In the 18th century, as well as extending into the latter part of the 20th century, white people were not used to the idea of blacks having the same freedoms as whites did. For the colonial kids, this change is very, very drastic, so it shouldn't be any surprise that they would be having that conversation. Remember that Felicity and her friends have uncertainties about this circumstance, so they have to find a way to deal or cope with it without getting a lot of trouble on their hands when they're on board the _Enterprise_. As a fanfic writer, I try to portray accurately what the children's reaction is like, without being too offensive, and as mildly as possible, as logic allows. So please do not think I am a racist bigot just because I featured this conversation about the black people. (I'm mentioning this as a precautionary measure so that I don't get a lot of nasty e-mails and verbal comments saying how racist and prejudiced I am, when actually I'm not.)

Feel free to mention your opinions regarding the colonial children's conversation on the black people in your reviews. If there's something unrealistic, inaccurate, or perhaps offensive about the conversation, let me know. Feedback is always appreciated.

A/N (2): I hope you won't mind the religious aspects related to Christianity in this chapter, especially the part where Felicity and her friends and siblings are saying grace before meals. You'll also come across further religious aspects throughout the novel, especially the ones relating a little stuff pertaining to Christianity. The reason why I decided to include these said religious aspects was because back in the Colonial Period, religion was considered by many of the colonists to be an important part of their lives. (c.f. _Felicity's Surprise_ and _Changes for Felicity_; you'll come across some mentions of church attendance in the Bruton Parish Church and Bible readings in the former, and a recitation of the famed Psalm 23 in the latter, during Felicity's Grandfather's funeral; famed because it's the oft-quoted Psalm for most religiously devout individuals experiencing troubled times.) If you notice throughout American history, the Founding Fathers placed a significant emphasis on religion when they shaped her foundation. So I hope you're not entirely offended. (Besides, some Felicity fanfic writers made occasional mentions of Christianity, too. Look up _Finding a New World _and_ O Come All Ye Faithful_…) So for all the Trekkies and fans of Felicity the American Girl, please don't think of this fanfic as a catechism. It's just to give you an idea of how the children sustain themselves spiritually when they face "interesting times" in the 24th century A.D..


	11. Chapter 11

_**Star Trek: The Next Generation – Souvenirs**_

**Written By:**_** Commander Cody CC-2224**_

Brief Notes:

Okay, I admit the story kind of drags a little, but if I rush through the whole thing you won't get a picture as to what is exactly going on as the story flows. [Man, how I wish I could draw pictures properly; then you could see what I visualize is going on in the story, but well, that wasn't the case with Ms. Elizabeth McDavid Jones' Felicity mystery novels (_Traitor in Williamsburg_, _Peril at King's Creek_, and _Lady Margaret's Ghost_), when most of the Felicity books were illustrated, so I kind of feel comfortable with just writing a novel that isn't illustrated…]. Anyway, please bear with me as I narrate the events of the story in a manner that is cognitive to everyone, especially those who are familiar with _Star Trek: The Next Generation_ and _Felicity: An American Girl_, because, as I said initially, that's what my Felicity fanfic crossover is based on.

Please review & rate after you've finished this chapter; I had to do a fair amount of research on MRI scanning machines, as well as on the analysis of eye color, because that's where the fairly convincing technobabble comes in, as well as the descriptions of how the technological stuff functions in the _Enterprise_'s Biomedical Lab on Deck 12.

* * *

CHAPTER 11

The children had already finished their dinner meals. Ben gathered most of the trays and dishes and went over to the bar table to ask the young dark-skinned lady where to dump the trash. Looking to her right side, Felicity could observe in the background that the lady was giving him directions accompanied by various hand gestures as to where to put the trays and dishes in certain places, all to which Ben followed exactly as she told him.

Felicity looked at her little sister, brother, and best friend, who were still seated at the table. She patted her tummy with an air of satisfaction. "I feel mighty full today," she remarked happily with pride.

"Lissie!" exclaimed Nan, laughing. "'Tis most improper for a lady to pat her belly in front of people! You're acting as though you're with child!"

Felicity felt herself blush. Elizabeth let out a muffled nervous laugh.

"Oh, Lissie, Nan's just teasing," Elizabeth said to her friend, placing her right hand on Felicity's left shoulder in affection and reassurance.

Ben returned to the seating area in the lounge. "I think our man is waiting," he announced in a sarcastic manner.

"For what?" asked Elizabeth timidly.

"For the Doctor to toy with us, that's what."

"You could say that," replied the lieutenant in a casual but superior manner manner. "The Chief Medical Officer has granted me the honor of asking me to accompany you buggers to the Biomedical Lab on Deck 12 when you were finished with your chow."

"That's the second time you told us," replied Ben forcefully. "And we're not buggers."

"Oh, I have?" asked the lieutenant in a sarcastically quizzical but smug manner. He shrugged. "Oh well, then. Never mind."

"What's chow?" asked William.

"That's a euphemism for meals," replied the lieutenant in a smug manner. "What? Don't tell me you're stupid."

"That's totally bizarre," remarked Elizabeth.

Felicity frowned at the brash lieutenant. "We're not stupid," she retorted.

"Then stop acting as if you all are stupid," replied the Lieutenant in a rather discourteous tone of voice that seemed to hint an air of superiority. "Shall we proceed?"

"All right," replied a disgruntled Ben. "Let's go, ladies and gentleman. The Doctor can't wait to toy with us today."

The turquoise-blue-uniformed lieutenant ushered the children out of Ten-Forward and proceeded to lead them to the Biomedical Lab on Deck 12, where, the children suspected, Dr. Crusher would be waiting for them. The children followed the lieutenant on the same route across the saucer section decks that Troi used when she led them to the guest quarters.

The group marched to the turbolift and made their smooth descent to Deck 12. As the lieutenant led the way to the Lab, there was little to no conversation among the children. Almost the entire way their minds were filled with a rush of anxiety as they awaited what the science team would do to them.

When the group entered the lab, there was a plethora of sophisticated machines used for medical research, as well as equipment intended for aiding the treatment of various patients. A fair number of touch-screen LCDs were neatly lined in a single panel. There was even a strange quadrilateral block device with a gaping opening that could literally fit a single person near the left corner of the room. The quadrilateral room was very well-lit, with ceiling-based fluorescent lights illuminating every area, just like in the Main Sickbay.

In the room there was a slight flurry of activity going on under Dr. Crusher's direction as the science team were preparing the machines for the further analyses that she was going to attempt on the children.

"Ah, hello, kids," greeted the Doctor. "You're just in time."

"I'll say," remarked Ben wryly. The girls bobbed cheerful curtsies. "The rather discourteous lieutenant never bothered to introduce himself. Do you happen to know who he is?"

"Yes. This is Mr. Harry Corbin, a Lieutenant Junior Grade in the medical personnel."

"Swell," replied Ben casually.

"Your extraordinary colonial American politeness knows no bounds, especially you girls," remarked Dr. Crusher. "Step right this way, children."

Dr. Crusher led the children to a photography room, where patients were usually given mug shots for IDs in the medical records. On the center wall was a single light blue curtain draped over. "Before we proceed on further analyses we're going to take…pictures of you," she announced, handling an advanced digital camera.

"You mean portraits?" inquired Elizabeth.

"Close," replied Dr. Crusher. "But these 'portraits' are not going to require canvas and brush, acrylics, pastels, drawing paper, and all that other stuff that artists use both in your time as well as ours. We're going to take your pictures in a new way. The camera."

"Camera?" asked Felicity in a tone of voice that strongly hinted fascination. "How does it work?"

Dr. Crusher sighed. "It's a long story, Miss Merriman, so I'll give you a basic explanation, as time is rather short. This device," she continued, pointing at the camera, "takes pictures by capturing light. Now in the old days, these types of devices used special sheets of film, where the image could be imprinted when the devices capture the light. But now…" she was planting the device on a tall tripod, "We take the pictures digitally."

Poor Felicity was baffled by the new terms that she could only shake her head confusedly.

"I'm afraid that I've subjected you to a mild level of information overload," remarked Dr. Crusher casually. "Just hold your questions for later so that we can get this project done, okay, sweetie?"

Felicity was never really used to being called "sweetie", especially by her mother; it was a term too modern for her. She just simply nodded in agreement.

"Now," announced the Doctor, as she aligned the tripod, "We'll first start with a group shot. Lieutenant, can you position them?"

The same lieutenant in the Science Lab personnel who accompanied the children to the lab set about positioning them in a manner that the camera could get capture all of them, except him. The children assisted a little by grouping themselves in certain arrangements. Ben stood at the left hand corner of the curtain, Felicity stood beside him at his left, and Elizabeth stood beside her friend's left side. Nan was on Elizabeth's left side, and William was at his sister's left side as well. And so, from the photographer's frame of reference, the order went as followed: Ben, Felicity, Elizabeth, Nan, and William. Each of the children positioned themselves in a slight semicircle formation. All three girls, except Felicity, had their hands down, clasping them in a ladylike fashion. William put his hands in his coat pockets. Ben held Felicity's right hand in affection.

The scene was excellent for portrait taking. Dr. Crusher adjusted the camera's angle, pitch, and yaw in order for the lens to capture all five of the children. The camera was primed, and the target was on focus. The Doctor pressed a single button on the top right side lightly, and pressed down further. The camera illuminated its white light flash for a fraction of a millisecond, and the first picture was taken, which was revealed on the 1½ inch LCD screen.

"I'm going to take another one, so hold still for me one more time," said Dr. Crusher. Again she focused the camera lens on the children and pressed again. A second group shot was taken and displayed on the LCD, with slight differences, but nevertheless satisfactory.

"For the medical records identifications, we will proceed next with taking individual mug shots of your pretty faces," announced the Doctor. "Lieutenant, can you deal with the procedure? I need to check the preparations for the equipment we're going to use."

"Yes, ma'am." The blue-shirted lieutenant pulled out a swivel chair as the Doctor walked off to the other corner of the room to check on the huge scanning machine. He then placed the chair near the sky-blue curtain spread.

"I think we'll start with the lovely ladies first," announced the lieutenant. He gave a cursory glance at the two older girls. "The blond-haired lady seems a mite timid, but the redhead seems brave enough to give it a try. Perhaps you can set an example for the rest of your _pals_, Miss…"

"Felicity Merriman," replied Felicity.

"Oh, is that your name?"

Felicity nodded carelessly. "Aye," she replied.

Ben was a little indignant. "Sir, allow me to go first," he said. "The young ladies may not be particularly brave to try this."

"That's not true!" cried Felicity.

The lieutenant gave Ben a rather quizzical but slightly nasty look. "Well…as you can see, Miss…what's her name…ah, Merriman! Miss Merriman seems to be a little hyper these days, and I thought it would be practical to start with her first because if she waits too long, she won't have the aptitude to sit still anymore."

"To you, it is," put in Ben sardonically. "We're not guinea pigs for your scientific experiments, sir."

"Yes, yes, yes, we're well aware of that," replied the lieutenant lazily. "As human beings you are entitled to the Federations' basic human rights regarding experimental procedures in the interests of science...unfortunately. Don't worry; the machines won't hurt you…hee-hee…"

He turned to Felicity. "Shall we get started, Miss."

Felicity positioned herself on the fabric cushion seat with its wooden trim. "All right," she sighed.

The lieutenant brought out a special foldable stand with a small camera attached and positioned it near Felicity's front direction. Then he positioned the camera in a manner so that the lens got a close-up image of Felicity's face shown on the LCD.

"Okay, smile for the camera, sweetheart," commanded the lieutenant teasingly. Upon hearing this Felicity flashed her sweet smile, and the lieutenant got rather attracted to her. He clicked on the camera and the flash lit up, indicating that the photograph was taken.

"Now turn to your left and face there," commanded the lieutenant, wagging his right hand index finger to his right direction, which he intended Felicity to follow by turning the swivel chair to the left. The lieutenant clicked the camera again and an image of Felicity's right side was shown on the LCD.

The lieutenant then commanded Felicity to turn counterclockwise until her wavy red hair faced the camera. Again he clicked the shutter button until the picture was taken and shown on the camera's LCD. Then he ordered Felicity to turn in the same direction until the camera lens caught sight of her left side. The fourth time the lieutenant clicked the shutter button and Felicity's left side was displayed on the LCD.

"That's it for you, Miss," remarked the lieutenant. "The blonde is next in line." He ushered Elizabeth to the swivel chair and performed the same picture-taking procedure that he used for Felicity. He did the same with Nan, William, and Ben in that order, as he made inquiries to their names so that they could respond better to his incessant flow of commands.

* * *

"I guess that's it for you kiddies," said the lieutenant. He turned around. "Doctor, their individual mug shots are made."

Dr. Crusher sauntered forward to the area where the lieutenant and the children were standing. "Okay," she remarked brusquely. She turned to the children and motioned them to follow her to another area in the Biomedical Lab. An electronically adjustable patient's bed was situated in the left hand corner of the room, as well as a moveable table equipped with a bizarre-looking headset and tray with adult hand-sized flat surfaces, both on the left and right sides. At the bottom of the patient's bed was a clay-like gel padding on both sides.

"Our next procedure comprises of a preliminary scan of your eyes, hands, and feet," announced Dr. Crusher professionally. "The headset scans your synapses."

"What are those?" asked William.

"Basically it scans your brain," replied the Doctor.

"Why would you want to scan our brains?" inquired Felicity in a not-so-courteous tone of voice.

"We're curious as to what the condition of your mind is. It might yield some clues as to whether you're really from the 18th century or not."

"Pray, how so?" asked Felicity.

"Well," replied Dr. Crusher, rolling her eyes. "The conditions of your mind might be influenced by certain elements in your timeline."

"Do we start with her first?" asked the lieutenant.

"Mmm…Yeah. Plop her on the chair."

With a nod of acknowledgement, the lieutenant beckoned Felicity to the patient's adjustable bed, which was positioned in the form of a chair. When Felicity took her seat, the lieutenant ordered her to take off her shoes and stockings. Felicity squirmed in her a little at the thought of that, but remembering how she went barefoot as she climbed the roof of the Merriman's housetop while eating an apple on the roof, much to the dismay of her mother and her younger sister, she didn't seem to mind. So she hastily slid off her black buckled shoes and her stockings. Both Elizabeth and Nan were very much aghast at the sight of seeing Felicity's bare feet, as it was considered improper for young ladies back in the 18th century to show them off in the presence of other people, but Ben just simply rolled his eyes as if nothing unusual was happening around him. William was busy gloating at the wide-eyed faces of the girls.

"And your cap," ordered the lieutenant, pointing his right-hand index finger at Felicity's mobcap perched on her head.

Felicity took off her mobcap with both of her hands. After handing her cap to the lieutenant, who placed it on a small table nearest the chair-bed, she scowled at her friend and sister. "What?" she asked in a biting tone of voice. "'Tis not my fault that I'm barefoot! The obnoxious lieutenant told me to take my shoes and stockings off!"

"I don't know," protested Nan calmly and innocently. "It's just that 'tis most improper for a lady to show her bare feet."

Dr. Crusher could not help smiling as she gave Nan a look that showed as there was something incredibly bizarre about the little girl's personality to be prim and proper.

"You know, I have to admit that I have a strong feeling that these children are indeed from another timeline, or perhaps the 18th century," she confided to the lieutenant. "Look at the way they act, is as if it's considered improper back in their time just to look at a lady's bare feet and bare head in public."

"Yeah, it's quite weird," agreed the lieutenant, as he was busy getting Felicity adjusted in a comfortable position in the patient's chair-bed. "However, we won't know for sure until we can obtain their biological trace samples." He adjusted the headset device in a manner where its curved visor covered the area of Felicity's eyes and the cap completely encompassed her head. "But it's really not that bad," he added. "He turned to Felicity. "You ready, Miss?"

Felicity nodded. She was too anxious as to what next was going to happen to her,

Dr. Crusher took a deep breath. "Okay, we're ready to begin. Lieutenant, hit the button."

"Aye, Doctor." The lieutenant rubbed his hands in a brisk and gleeful manner and started tapping away on the touch-button console.

The ocular scanner was the first to be put into operation. When Felicity's eyes met the scanner's interface, a light blue scanning beam swept across her exposed eyeballs. On an LCD, which was hooked up to the headset device, a crystal-clear, extraordinarily vivid image of Felicity's sparkling green eyes generated on the screen. Slowly, in a downward direction, the image appeared on full screen.

The synaptic scanner was next. Inside the head covering a thin blue line flowed across Felicity's head. On another LCD near the other computer screen showing the image of Felicity's eyes, a cool-looking, outlined image of her brain, with certain areas dabbed in different colors slowly generated in a downward direction.

A dulcet female computer voice announced the scanners' completion. "OCULAR AND SYNAPTIC SCANNING ONE HUNDRED PERCENT COMPLETE."

"Okay," remarked Dr. Crusher in relief. "We're now going to scan your hands and feet. So hold still for another moment."

The electronic door chime made a high and another high-pitched sound. "Come," ordered the Doctor.

An individual wearing a yellow and black uniform with a gray face, yellow eyes stepped in. It was the android, Lt. Commander Data.

"Am I disturbing you?" the android inquired, as he made quirky movements that visually indicated his slight confusion.

"Not at all," replied Dr. Crusher, forcing a smile on her face. "We're just doing preliminary scans of the children."

"Data!" exclaimed Felicity in childish excitement.

"Now hold on," ordered the Doctor. "We're not through with you yet. You'll get to talk with Data once we're done. Is that right, Mr. Data?" She turned her face to meet his.

"That would depend on the circumstances."

"Are you on break?"

"Technically, yes. The duration of the break is about a half-hour, or to be more precise, approximately 31.2 minutes, enough to strike up a conversation with Miss Merriman."

Dr. Crusher gave a reassuring smile to Felicity. "See? That's more than enough time to talk with Mr. Data. So if you cooperate, we'll get through this faster. All right."

"Aye," nodded Felicity.

The Doctor turned her face back to Data. "But that's not the last. After we perform these preliminary scans on the children, we will subject them to another machine that will scan the entirety of their bodies on an internal level."

"And that would be…?" asked Elizabeth timidly.

"Well, that's gonna be a surprise," replied Dr. Crusher briskly.

The lieutenant positioned Felicity's hands on the glossy black flat hand boards, and positioned Felicity's feet on the thick clay-like tablets. Ben could see that Felicity's bare feet were immensely attractive that he nearly had the urge to literally caress them, but not only that, the way Felicity was dressed at present seemed to give off a sensuous appearance. Her wavy, stubborn red hair was completely exposed and let down in a sensuous manner. Staring at Felicity, Ben could almost feel within himself a temptation to engage in carnal love. But his honor would not permit that, even if Mr. and Mrs. Merriman weren't watching over their eldest daughter right now.

The hand and foot scanners were activated. On each of the hand boards a pale blue laser beam traversed under the palm of Felicity's hands. An LCD screen connecting to the scanner device gradually generated a display of Felicity's handprints of both hands in a downward direction. As for the foot tablets a pale blue surrounding glowed around Felicity's feet. It meant that the footprints of both her right and left foot were being scanned. Another LCD connecting to the device gradually showed a vivid image of Felicity's footprints on the clay tablet.

The computer voice blared the same message of scanning completion, save for the difference of the hands and feet. "HAND AND FOOT SCANNING ONE HUNDRED PERCENT COMPLETE."

_Swell_, though Ben, as he widened his brown eyes and fidgeted with his fingers in his coat pocket. Elizabeth, Nan, and William did not hold much conversation with each other at this point; their eyes were immensely fixed in stupefied wonder over the strange contraptions.

"Is that it?" asked Felicity, in wide-eyed wonder.

"Yup," replied Dr. Crusher briskly. "You're done. But don't bother putting back your shoes, stockings, and cap yet because we still have to get you into the next scanning machine."

So Felicity got up from the patient's adjustable bed and set herself to arranging her shoes, stockings, and mobcap in an orderly manner, near the bed. She blew out two puffs of air in exhalation in order to heighten her confidence. Then she turned to the Doctor. "Can I see the color of my eyes on these strange looking screens?" she asked, trying to be sweet on her in the hope of getting what she wanted.

"You may," replied Dr. Crusher. She led her to the screen that displayed the vivid image of Felicity's sparkling emerald-green eyes. Curious about what her older sister was gloating at on one of the LCDs, Nan decided to take a peek.

Nan involuntarily let out a gasp of astonishment. "Why, Lissie!" she exclaimed elatedly. "Your eyes are so beautiful!"

"Where?" asked Elizabeth. She hurried to the same area where both Felicity and Nan were and fixed her bambi-eyed gaze at the color image with an air of intense interest. Both William and Ben followed suit.

"Aye, I agree with your sister, Lissie," remarked Elizabeth. "Your eyes are immensely attractive."

"I'll be damned," remarked Ben, as he fixed his wide-eyed gaze on the LCD.

"Are you sure that's Lissie's eyes?" inquired William in a tone of voice that hinted an air of rude skepticism, as he had slight doubts whether Felicity's eyes were captured accurate on the screen. "They look very much like green monster eyes."

"William!" exclaimed Elizabeth, as she burst into a seemingly uncontrollable fit of giggles. "Don't spoil the moment! You're insulting your sister!" William only heaved a sigh in reply. Felicity chuckled to herself at her brother's seemingly witty comment.

"All right, that's enough gloating for the moment," interrupted Dr. Crusher. "We need to get started on Miss Cole's scanning procedure. So if you can just take off your shoes, stockings, and pretty cap and get yourself seated…" her voice trailed off as she beckoned Elizabeth to the adjustable bed in chair form.

Elizabeth proceeded to take off her black-buckled shoes, creamy white stockings, and her mobcap. Upon taking her seat on the adjustable bed, the Lieutenant set to work on positioning the girl's hands on the flat-board scanners and her bare feet on the flatbed scanners as well.

Felicity began to start having a curiosity about the color of her eyes. She started having Data locked into a conversation about it.

"Mr. Data?" she asked sweetly.

Data looked hard at Felicity with slightly intense curiosity, jerking his head slightly. "Yes, Miss Merriman?"

"Do you happen to know what causes my eyes to be green?"

Data jerked his head again. "The cause of your green eyes is due to negligible traces of melanin found in the frontal iris epithelia. The melanin is a dark, organically based pigment that is most commonly found in black-skinned individuals in large quantities. The epithelia are the cellular tissues that line a cavity in an organic body and generate secretions. In the eyes, such a function would prove to be necessary in order to keep the eyes from literally drying up. When there are negligible traces of melanin across the epithelia, the white light rays will impact directly on the eyes, and the color mixtures of brown and blue will be reflected to an individual with normal eyes, thus giving off what would appear to said individual to be…green eyes, because the color mixture of brown and blue will reflect a green color."

Felicity's eyes rolled, as she seemed to have difficulty fathoming Data's scientific explanation regarding the cause of her sparkling green eyes.

"What about my eyes?" inquired Elizabeth, after the ocular and synaptic scanning machine was finished with her.

"They would register to be under the same category of circumstances belonging to Miss Merriman's in regard to the negligible traces of melanin found on the eye tissue. However, the slight difference is that your eyes would have only a smidgen of melanin scattered throughout, so the white light would, in effect, give off a reflection of the color blue."

"What about brown?" asked Felicity, remembering how she always looked at Ben's brown eyes.

"That is primarily caused by a greater amount of melanin scattered throughout the frontal iris section. Basically the amount of this organically-based pigment will make a determination as to what the color of your eyes are. In general, greater trace amounts of melanin will reflect darker colors, and negligible amounts of melanin will reflect lighter colors."

Both Felicity and Elizabeth had difficulty understanding the explanation, but Data still rambled on.

"There is another cause for determination of eye color, and it has something to do with genetics. In your case, Miss Merriman, it is conceivable that either one of your parents has the same eye color you have."

"I think it was probably my mother," replied Felicity. "My father's eyes are brown."

"Then in that case it is conceivable that you might have inherited your mother's traits. The dominant gene for green eyes might have influenced your eye color. It might have especially run its course through your siblings as well."

Nan piped up. "What's the strange-looking man talking about?" she queried.

"We are in a discussion about the subject of eye color," replied Data emotionlessly.

"My eyes are the same color as Lissie's," said Nan.

Data jerked his head in confusion. "Who is Lissie?" he inquired.

Heaving an exasperated sigh, Nan pointed to her older sister. Data followed the direction pointed, and his glance fell upon Felicity. "Miss Merriman?" he asked.

Nan gave a single nod. "Aye. 'Tis what we call her for affection."

Data gave a rather confused look at the little girl. "Oh, I see. An etymological shorthand. A nickname. But I do not see the relative connection between human affection and the nature of the nickname."

"That's because you're an android, Data," interrupted Dr. Crusher. She checked the LCDs and turned to Elizabeth, who was still seated in the patient's adjustable seat. "Don't bother to put on your stockings and shoes, yet, or even your cap because there will still be another complete scan for the entirety of your body awaiting you."

At that point Elizabeth was eager to see what her eyes looked like. The image comprised of a set of pale blue eyes. Ben trailed behind her.

"You know, I have to admit, I'm guessing the same could be said about your eyes, too," remarked Ben in a casual manner.

Then Dr. Crusher turned to Nan. "You're next, kiddo," she called.

Nan, being a little scared, sauntered slowly to the adjustable bed. Dr. Crusher picked her up and positioned the girl gently, leaving the lieutenant to take off her shoes, stockings, and mobcap and then make the necessary adjustments for her hands and feet on the flatbed scanners. It took at least half a minute for him to adjust the headset device on Nan.

"What will the machine do to me?" Nan asked timidly.

"The machines will simply scan your head, your eyes, your hands, and your feet," replied Dr. Crusher. "Miss Merriman and Miss Cole were able to make it. So should you."

"That's because they're older than I am," retorted Nan. "I'm just a scared little girl."

"Just hold still for me, little girl, will you?" asked the Doctor gently. "The machines won't harm you."

The lieutenant pressed a series of touch-buttons on the control console and the scanning machines resumed its dizzying-sounding whirs.

"Poor Nan," remarked Elizabeth.

"Serves her right," Felicity confided to her friend quietly, trying to sound sarcastic. But deep inside her, she felt a little worried about the machines. _Would they be able to handle Nan's little body? I do hope she doesn't get hurt,_ thought Felicity.

Suddenly Elizabeth was overcome with an intense curiosity regarding Data's quirky movements of his head.

"I do have one question, Mr. _Data_, or however you pronounce it," said Elizabeth, trying to enunciate this seemingly foreign word in her British accent. "I notice that you keep jerking your head. Why do you do that? Are you all right?"

"That is affirmative, Miss Cole," replied Data. "The so-called "jerk on my head" occurs when my subroutines attempt to access whatever stored information I possess in my neural net. Occasionally that occurs. I don't always do that."

"Hmm," murmured Elizabeth. To Felicity it was quite clear that her friend didn't know one bit what the android was talking about. Even Data could perceive that fact for himself.

"I'm sorry that I'm not able to give you a comprehensive explanation for that subject," apologized Data emotionlessly. Elizabeth was confused as to what to do; she thought that if she withdrew from the topic in a disinterested manner the android would perceive it as rude. On the other hand, the technical jargon that Data was spouting off was plain gobbledygook to her.

Then in a few seconds during Elizabeth's confused musing Felicity stepped in. "Don't worry, Mr. Data," she replied her usual spunky outgoing manner. "We're kind of new here. We're just not as…oh, how do I put it…mechanically minded as you are."

"'Technically minded' would be the appropriate term, Miss Merriman."

"Oh," replied Felicity with a chuckle.

Elizabeth gave her friend a worried look. "Lissie, are you sure that was a good idea?" she asked nervously. "I was afraid that Mr. Data would perceive your behavior as rude, and won't talk to us anymore."

Felicity sighed. "You worry too much, Elizabeth. I was just simply preventing another incident of what the kindly Doctor calls 'information overload'. You probably couldn't even understand one bit of what he was talking about anyway," she declared rather impatiently. Elizabeth shook her head in a manner that hinted uncertainty.

It took at least an estimate of a minute and a half for the entire scanning to procedure to finish. The voice of the computer as usual made their formal announcements about the completions of the scans.

"William, you're next," announced Dr. Crusher. William didn't seem to mind when the lieutenant ordered him to take off his shoes and stockings. The same entire scanning procedure carried on with a minimum amount of fuss from the boy.

Ben was the next and last person to be subjected to the scanner devices. The very interaction of them seemed to boggle his masculine mind, as he remembered the plethora of 24th century electronic equipment he had seen in the magazine he glanced through when he was in the guest quarters.

It was at that point that Ben became a laughingstock to the rest of the children. Both Felicity and Elizabeth snickered to each other about the very sight of Ben, who was completely barefoot on account of the lieutenant ordering him to take off his shoes and stockings, being hooked up to a bizarre plethora of electrical cords, hardware, and other blinking diode lights. Ben started to find the entire process slightly humiliating, and must have been a little understanding of what the girls had to go through during this procedure. He was just never used to being barefoot in front of people, especially in the Merriman General Store, when he had to deal with the customers on a regular basis.

"He looks so awful in those weird contraptions," commented Elizabeth, who couldn't help laughing. "Why, he looks like…well…the Medusa. Except the Medusa was a lady and Ben's a lad…" Her voice trailed off, as she hit upon the thought that she said something stupid.

"Oh, very funny, Elizabeth," replied Felicity, as she chuckled to herself.

"Your knowledge of Greek myths is rather unusual for a girl of your class," remarked the lieutenant. Upon hearing the incessant giggles of the older girls, including little Nan, and William, Ben only signed in exasperation.

"It's all in good fun, Mr. Davidson," assured Dr. Crusher. "The girls are just teasing."

"I hope…" remarked Ben in a wry manner, as the scanners performed their functions on him.

* * *

The entire scanning process of all five children was finished and took at least 25 minutes. The children were now barefoot and cap-less, a fact that the girls were rather conscious of, especially Elizabeth and Nan, who considered it improper for a lady to go about in public with her head uncovered. Dr. Crusher asked the lieutenant to prep the new scanning machine while she stow away the preliminary scanning equipment.

The children were ushered to a new contraption. To them it was terribly huge-ish. The machine was about 12 feet in length and nearly half the length in width. It was partially circular, with a rectangular block as its base. A tubular opening large enough for a single human stood gaping at the children, as if ready to devour them in human sacrifice. This is kind of idea that the lieutenant planned to put into action.

"Ladies, and gentleman," he announced semi-formally, "Boys and girls…" he paused, as if relishing the suspense of the children. "Dyin' times are here."

The lieutenant extended his arms to the huge contraption, as he readied himself to utter his prank announcement. "Prepare to meet your maker, the man-eating colonial kid grinder!"

Hearing this, Elizabeth let out a gasp, with her hand to her mouth. Nan followed her, too, her face very much horrorstruck as Elizabeth's.

"The terror of the Biomedical Lab!" Then he lowered his pitch to a level so sinister to listen to. "We must make human sacrifices for our wholly evil god Moloch! Bwahahahahahahahahaha…!"

Surprisingly enough, Felicity did not look to be scared. Well, maybe a little bit, but not as much as Elizabeth and Nan. After all she did have some newfound fears as to what the guys in the medical personnel would do to her. William was a little indignant. Ben acted in a casual manner, but the thought of being offered as human sacrifice brought slight flutters to his stomach, and if that machine was really a device for human holocausts, he was in for serious trouble.

Maintaining her composure as best as she could, Felicity eyed on the machine carefully. There was a gaping opening in the middle, but she could see no outward appearances of any cutting blades exposed. Felicity may have looked as though she wasn't scared, but deep inside her, she was. The thought of being stuffed inside the opening, waiting for sharp objects to gash her was brutally disturbing, but she had to stay strong for her friends.

"That doesn't look like a man-eating machine," declared Felicity in a smug manner.

"Oh, sure," replied the mischievous lieutenant in exasperation. "You always have to ruin everything, Miss Merriman." He abruptly turned to the rest of the children and continued his scare pranks in a soothingly sinister tone of voice. "But just think, boys and girls. You must never just simply judge by appearance the way that bold redhead does with her red-hot temper. The moment you are inside this opening, all sorts of cutting blades will slowly protrude to get a delicious slice of your warm, welcoming, pale Caucasian flesh off your very bones…" He smacked his lips obnoxiously, as if he was very much looking forward to literally feasting on the children, (especially Felicity, whose pale skin, red hair, and green eyes he found particularly attractive).

Dr. Crusher was eyeing at the lieutenant suspiciously. Poor Nan was on the verge of tears, as Elizabeth tried to comfort her. William was petrified, unable to speak a word.

"…Ya know what, I think I'm droolin'," continued the lieutenant, wiping his mouth with his uniform sleeve in a playful manner.

"Mr. Corbin, that will do!" Dr. Crusher snapped.

The lieutenant sighed. "You always have to take the fun out of everything, Doctor," he drawled, sighing frustratingly.

"Mr. Corbin, we are dealing with children who are possibly from the 18th century. They have no idea as to what a machine looks like, since they have never encountered one like that in their lives. It's not good to take advantage of their ignorance through scare tactics, even if they're intended as pranks."

"Sorry, Doctor," replied the lieutenant apologetically. Dr. Crusher turned to the children. "He didn't mean what he said, kids," she assured.

"True," added the lieutenant. "I was just totally kidding with you."

Felicity stood up to him and glared. "It's wrong to scare little children out of their wits' end," she declared crossly.

"It's wrong to scare little children out of their wits' end," repeated the lieutenant in a mock tone of Felicity's voice. Then he let out an audible snort as he prepared the new machine as he muttered to himself. "Ya smarmy, cheesy, little green-eyed redhead in a fancy colonial costume who doesn't even know jack about…yak, yak, yak, blah, blah, blah…"

Ben only sighed. "Tsk, tsk, tsk…oh, Lissie."

The lieutenant now faced Dr. Crusher. "The machine is now ready, Doctor," he called.

"Very well. You may start on one of the kids; I'll be there shortly."

"Yes, ma'am," replied the lieutenant gleefully. He turned to the children. "Since Miss Merriman seems to have the audacity to criticize my seemingly 'atrocious' scare prank, I'm going to start with her first."

The children were in shocked stupidity, but Felicity stepped forward. "I think I'm brave enough to get my pretty body toyed in that machine," she declared with poise.

"Lissie, what are you doing?" cried Ben.

"Not to worry, Mr. Davidson," assured the lieutenant. "Your girlfriend ain't gonna get hurt." He turned to Felicity. "Now, if you will kindly place your in a flat position…yes…lie down like that…yes…that's it…stolid as a rock…"

Felicity got herself to lie down in a flat position on the leather-lined mattress on top of the extended flat-board.

"Really, what is this thing?" she asked.

"We'll explain after the procedure," replied the lieutenant, smiling mischievously. "In the meantime, shut your pretty hole and brace yourself for the insertion."

Felicity was confused by the very term, as it was unheard of back in her day. "What hole?" she asked.

"What? You deaf and stupid. girlie? It refers to your mouth."

Felicity had never heard anything so unmannerly to a young lady from anyone in her time. She wanted to berate him for saying such a thing, but her thoughts on what she was about to say was interrupted when a loud click, followed by a loud hum of the machine interrupted her contemplation. As she lay back on the flatbed she could see the ceiling with its multitudinous ceiling-based fluorescent lights move in a forward direction from her frame of reference. The lights cast an attractive faerie-like glitter on her already sparkling emerald-green eyes, and in this immensely illuminated room various but vague mirror reflections could be seen in them. Soon the ceiling was covered by an eerily dark surrounding. From outside, as the flatbed slowly retracted into the wide opening of the machine, the last of Felicity that could be seen were her bare feet.

Around the opening Felicity could see pale blue lights switch on around her, and she saw herself in a blue surrounding. A visible blue laser beam field slowly traversed across her body, starting from her head. Outside, near the back side of the machine, the side which was opposite the side where the children were situated, Dr. Crusher and the lieutenant watched with interest as a hi-definition image of Felicity's anatomy slowly generated on one of the computer screens near the machine itself. The image was multi-colored; certain areas of the body were colored differently.

It took nearly 1 minute and 25 seconds for the scanner beams to traverse across Felicity's body. When the entire process was complete, the flatbed slowly retracted from the opening. The lieutenant helped Felicity get up.

"Now you may put your stockings, shoes, and cap on, sweetie," Dr. Crusher said to Felicity. And that was exactly what Felicity did.

Dr. Crusher turned her face to the rest of the children. "We'll start with you next, Miss Cole," she said soothingly. Elizabeth timidly approached the retracted flatbed and positioned herself in a flat straight position with the aid of the lieutenant. When Felicity was finished putting on her stockings, shoes, and mobcap, she went straight at once to where Elizabeth lay to give her reassurance.

As Elizabeth prepared to be inserted into the MRI machine, Felicity squeezed her friend's hand. "You'll be all right, Elizabeth," she assured in a not-so-confident tone of voice. Elizabeth could only nod nervously in reply, her pale blue eyes having a look of fearfulness about her.

The machine was activated and the fairly loud humming sound occurred, with the flatbed carrying a frightened Elizabeth retracting into the opening of the contraption. Even with her overconfidence was her personal character trait, Felicity could not be so sure as to whether the machine could handle her friend. _This is an entirely new century for us_, she thought to herself. In her seemingly anxious state of mind, she decided to talk to the lieutenant.

"Will she be all right?" she asked him, her eyes filled with worry.

"Yeah, I should think so," the lieutenant replied casually.

Ben approached her promptly. "Are you all right, Lissie?" he asked. Felicity nodded.

"How did it go for you?"

"Overall, I felt all right. I'm fine. Really"

The scanning commenced. As the image slowly generated on the LCD, the lieutenant started giving a vivid description and labeling of Elizabeth's body parts. Ben listened in wide-eyed fascination, but Felicity seemed almost unable to stand listening to him. "This lecture is literally freaking me out," she whispered.

"But Lissie, 'tis most fascinating to look and listen at," put in Ben.

Then Felicity remembered her question about the machine. She turned to face Data. "Mr. Data?" she said loudly in a rather unladylike manner.

Data abruptly perked his android head up. "Yes, Miss Merriman?"

"What is this contraption called?"

"That is a Magnetic Resonance Imaging device, or MRI. It's also called an NMRI; the N standing for the term Nuclear. It is basically a medical imaging device that utilizes the concept of magnetism to perform a full sweep on an individual. This machine is an enhanced version of the 24th century pertaining to the concept."

"How does the machine work?" asked Ben.

"The MRI utilizes a powerful magnetic field to align the nuclear magnetization of hydrogen atoms in an individual's body fluids in order to relay an image to the computer that graphically portrays the interior of the human body. Radiofrequency fields are used to systematically alter the alignment of this magnetization, causing the hydrogen nuclei to produce a rotating magnetic field detectable by the scanner. This signal can then be manipulated by additional magnetic fields to build up enough information in the computer to construct an image of the cadaver itself…yak, yak, yak, blah, blah, blah….

"I don't thing I'm getting this," whispered Felicity.

Ben shook his head. "Don't bother. It's beyond the conventions for a young lady for your time," he replied quietly.

Data immediately stopped rambling on his technobabble. "I seem to doubt that you're getting any of this Miss Merriman."

Felicity opened her mouth in shock, as she felt pretty embarrased for her unattentiveness to the scholarly Mr. Data. "I beg your pardon, sir," she said in a demure manner. "As much as I have an astonishing appreciation of your scholarly knowledge of such things, I have to admit that it's beyond what is expected for a young lady like me to learn."

Data jerked his head again. "Then perhaps I shall stop here."

"No, please," piped up Nan. "Continue."

"But you won't understand it."

Nan sighed wistfully as she rested her head on her arm. "I know. It's nice to listen to you. It helps me calm my nerves about this huge machine."

"Just continue," put in Dr. Crusher. "It will help keep their anxious minds at ease, given that this technology is frighteningly new to them."

Data jerked his head again. "As you wish, Doctor," he replied. He was about to continue when Dr. Crusher interrupted him again.

"And don't give them too much information about the history of the future," she put in.

With a nod of agreement, Data continued pouring his forth his torrent of wordy, not-so-fathomable technobabble about the machine and its history. Nan sat on the floor and positioned herself in a relaxed manner. William continued walking around the lab.

"The inception of MRI began around 1973, and its maiden function on a human specimen took place 4 years later, in 1977. The basic knowledge of the contraption was gained during the research of nuclear magnetic resonance…yak, yak, yak, blah, blah, blah…"

At this point the flatbed slowly retracted from the gape, toting a much-bewildered Elizabeth. Both Felicity and Ben helped her get on her own two feet.

"I'll get her personal effects," he said.

"Thank you, Ben," replied Felicity sweetly.

Dr. Crusher called forth the next child. "Nan, you next," she called, trying not to sound too rude. Instinctively Ben picked up Nan and positioned her gently on the flatbed.

"What will happen to me?" asked Nan.

"You'll only be scanned, that's all," replied Dr. Crusher.

"Will I be all right, just like Lissie and Elizabeth?"

"You will. You can count on that. Just stay calm."

Nan rested her head and gave a demure face. The machine was activated again, and the flatbed slowly retracted to the opening. Ben and Felicity continued to Data's rambling about the history and workings of the device.

"…Though the machine you see in this lab is an advanced, spruced-up version, it still maintains the same basics of nuclear magnetic resonation. The details of its basic function are based on the fact that because of the magnetic field, the protons will make their geometric alignment in proportion with that field. The very reason for this occurrence is that the human body is mainly comprised of water molecules which contain 2 hydrogen nuclei, since the element hydrogen is a diatomic molecule…yak, yak, yak, blah, blah, blah…"

Ben, Felicity, and Elizabeth were anxiously watching the image of Nan's little body being slowly generated on the LCD.

"Wow, I never realized her pretty little head could store so much info on how to be a proper gentlewoman," remarked the lieutenant sarcastically.

"I would suspect in their day that children as old as her were expected to mature quickly," added Dr. Crusher.

"You're right, Doc," replied the lieutenant. "We are indeed dealing with remarkable specimens of our past heritage." The doctor chuckled to herself.

As Nan's body was slowly generating on the screen, Ben and the girls listened to Data's droning.

"…A secondary field at a radiofrequency level is then activated, prompting the effect of protons in the body to absorb some of the energy. When the field is activated they will release the energy at the radiofrequency which has the capability of detection by a specialized scanner. The image of the body is built up via the function of additional application of magnetic fields in order to determine the position of the protons. This function is thus attained by turning the gradient coils both on and off…yak, yak, yak, blah, blah, blah…"

The scanning process was complete, followed the slow extraction of the flatbed. "Hey, Willy Boy, you're next," called Dr. Crusher.

Even William was a tad frightened, as he had never seen a contraption like that before, as did the rest of the children. He slowly walked up to the flatbed, where the lieutenant unceremoniously picked him up and positioned him in the same manner as Nan. "Wow," remarked William in stupefied astonishment.

The lieutenant turned to Nan. "Hey, little girl, you can start putting on your footwear and headwear," he said. Nan went to the area where the preliminary scans took place and gathered her shoes, stockings, and mobcap and put them on.

The older children started to have a shred of confidence about the machine, whatever worries they had about it were slowly diminishing, though it took a lot of time to do that, given that this stuff was very much new to them. If they did have some worries, they relaxed and let Data's words fly into their ears, if not the depths of their hearts. By that point in time Data was already explaining the physics behind the machine functions, and pretty much all it did was go blah, blah, blah into the children's heads, save for William, who was far too busy mesmerizing on what the machine was doing to him.

"…Now in the static magnetic fields, the energy difference between the nuclear spin corresponds to a single photon at certain wavelengths in the radiofrequency level. The resonant absorption of energy by the protons due to a single external magnetic field occurs at the Larmor frequency…yak, yak, yak, blah, blah, blah…"

Pretty much after all this emotionless and tiresome droning, both Felicity and Elizabeth started giggling to each other quietly. Ben slumped across the wall and heaved a heavy sigh as he stared blankly at the LCD, which showed William's body scan slowly generating. For him it was pretty much hopeless to understand all this, he thought to himself.

"…The longitudinal magnetization is pretty much due to a tiny excess of photon particles in the lower energy state, thus giving a net polarization parallel to the external magnetic field. The application of a radiofrequency pulse can destroy or reverse this polarization vector…yak, yak, yak, blah, blah, blah…"

The machine finished its scanning process, and the flatbed slowly retracted from the opening. "Well, that leaves me to be next and last person to get unceremoniously stuffed into this contraption in the Doctor's interest of science…" remarked Ben. When William was off the flatbed, Ben plopped himself and positioned himself in a straight manner.

"Well that was rather voluntary of you, Mr. Davidson," observed the lieutenant. He pressed a few touch-buttons and the machine resumed its crooning humming sounds. It was at this point that Felicity squeezed Ben's hand as the flatbed slowly retracted into the tube. Felicity continued listing to Data's technobabble.

"…The recovery of longitudinal magnetization is called longitudinal or T subscript 1 relaxation and occurs exponentially with a time constant. The loss of phase coherence in the transverse plane is called transverse or T subscript 2 relaxation. The longititudal magnetization is thus associated with the enthalpy of the spin system, that is, the amount of spins in parallel and-or anti-parallel state, while the transverse magnetization is associated with its entropy…"

When the last scan was completed the flatbed slowly retracted and Ben immediately got himself up and jumped down.

"Are you all right, Ben?" asked Felicity.

"Aye. It was rather claustrophobic in that tube. Not that I'm afraid of crowded spaces, otherwise…" he continued as he chuckled to himself in a genial manner. "…I would not have been working at your father's store." Felicity chuckled to herself as well as Ben gathered his shoes and stockings and put them on.

Data was continuing on his mundane technobabble of the MRI when Dr. Crusher interrupted him. "You can stop now, Mr. Data," she announced. Data immediately shut his mouth in an abrupt manner. Dr. Crusher was busy making requests to the lieutenant to obtain some lab tools.

Then the Doctor focused her attention on the children. "We're not finished with you yet, kiddos," she declared briskly. "Our next task…" she lowered her voice. "…And hopefully our last…" She raised the volume. "…Requires that we take a sample of your blood."

"Eeep!" gasped Nan, hand on her mouth. She turned to her older sister. "Lissie, they're not going to bleed us, are they?" she asked anxiously.

"Close," replied Dr. Crusher. "But it'll be just a little amount. A smidgen."

"I hope…" replied Nan, sounding kind of relieved, though a bit of worry reigned through her. Her older sister whispered in her ear, so as not to let everyone hear what she was about say to her sister, in case it sounded offensive to Dr. Crusher. "Don't worry, little Nan. If she takes too much of your blood, I will personally pull whatever device is attached to you and fling it away."

"Really?" asked Nan, smiling. Felicity grinned back at her younger sister mischievously.

The lieutenant came back with some small tools he was toting in an aluminum tray. They comprised of a special hypospray with a thin injection needle and 5 small circular tubes, each the size of a grown man's thumb, and bearing the names of the children. After being seated on the scanning machine's flatbed, Dr. Crusher took the tube bearing Felicity's name and attached it to the hypospray. Then she pricked Felicity's left arm and began to draw a small amount of bright red blood with the device. Sealing the tube, she placed it on the tray and took the one bearing Elizabeth's name. After clipping it on, she performed the same procedure on Elizabeth as she did Felicity. The same procedure was performed on Nan, William, and Ben, in that respective order. When all was done, the lieutenant toted the tray and walked off to another area of the Biomedical Lab.

"Whew! We're done! Finally!" declared Felicity, breathing a satisfying sigh of relief. William jumped down the flatbed and decided to stretch his legs by running around the lab, which was hindered by Felicity putting her hold on her fairly boisterous little brother. Nan decided to do some leg-stretching by doing a variety of tap-dances that she learned from Felicity, watching her skirt twirl freely. Ben stretched his legs and arms, scrambled off the flatbed, and crossed his arms. Elizabeth continued chatting with Felicity about they way the strange Dr. Crusher did things in the lab while they were there.

In the midst of all this mild elation the door chime sounded. "Come," commanded Dr. Crusher.

It was the blue-faced tailor. Yes, the same tailor that dried and fixed the children's clothes. This time he was carrying three neatly folded cloths, one bright red, the other a dark turquoise-blue, and the last one was of a violet color.

"What brings you here?" the Doctor asked briskly.

The now elatedly jumpy tailor prepared to speak his words. "You will be so proud of me, Doctor," he said in an invigorating manner, forcing a smile. "I have successfully managed to replicate the 18th century cloaks for two the pretty red-heads and the pretty blonde. And all this based on the illuminating memory logs."

"Memory logs?" inquired Felicity, astonished.

"Well…erm…I was shown some excerpts of it. Not to worry, Miss Merriman," he assured as he handed to each of the older girls their cloaks. Felicity donned on her red cloak and Elizabeth her blue cloak.

The tailor gave each of the girls an observing eyes, then cast his gaze on Felicity. "You sure as hell look like Little Red Riding Hood, Miss Merriman," commented the tailor as courteously as he could. Felicity beamed at him.

"We'd best be going, if you don't mind, Doctor," said Felicity, smiling sweetly at her.

"Of course, kiddo," replied Dr. Crusher. "Tailor, would you be kind enough to escort them back to the guest quarters? It's getting pretty late for them."

"Oh, that's all right, sir," replied Ben. "I can do that."

"Very good, sir," said the tailor. He grinned his mischievous-looking grin, turned abruptly to the entranceway and left the lab without another word.

"All right ladies, let's be off," called Ben. "And gentleman," he added, referring to little William. The children trooped out of the lab, saying their cheerful good-byes to Dr. Crusher, Data, and the lieutenant, who were the only ones left in the lab.

* * *

After the children had left the lieutenant decided to cut himself some slack.

"Another coffee break, I take it?" inquired Dr. Crusher.

"Yep." The lieutenant could act nice if he wanted to, and whenever he wanted to.

"Very well. Report back to the Main Sickbay at 1900 hours."

"Right-o, Doc."

As the lieutenant was near the opened doorway, he turned to face the Doctor. "You know what, Doc?"

"Hmm?"

"You're probably right about those terribly stupid kiddies being rather unusual through the way they speak and act."

"I'll say. We'll have to sift through our biological samples for sound evidence on that."

The lieutenant was about to walk out of the Lab before Dr. Crusher interrupted him.

"...One more thing."

"Hmm?"

Dr. Crusher looked the lieutenant in the eye. Her face was stern. "Don't ever call our guests 'stupid'. They're from time, they don't know much else about everything in this future. Is there an understanding between us?"

The lieutenant forced a smile on his face. "As usual...Doctor." With a nod, he left the room, and the sliding doors shut behind him. Data turned to face Dr. Crusher and jerked his head a little. "Interesting humans."

"In what way are they interesting to you, Data?" asked Dr. Crusher in a genial manner.

"It is an interesting observation that these children at their age could act in a manner most people would consider…mature."

"That is because back in their time most people died young, so children as a result had to grow up fast."

Data looked at the Doctor rather confusedly. "Could it possibly be the same thing as bettering oneself while at the same time not undergoing the biological aging process?"

"Perhaps. But this is different. You see, as children grow up, they gradually acquire certain knowledge of their surroundings, as well as the wisdom taught by their parents to utilize that knowledge. Whether they will utilize it for good or for bad remains to be seen. In the case of the colonial kids, they are taught to utilize such knowledge as best they can in a short period of time."

Data continued eyeing at the Doctor in a confused manner. "I…do not understand."

Dr. Crusher only smiled at him in reply. "That is because you're an android, Data, who never has to undergo the aging process of a mere humanoid entity. Because your body is artificial, you can have a much longer duration than the average human being."

"Perhaps, depending if my power cells continue to maintain an indefinite regeneration cycle."

Data pondered something for a moment. "Doctor, do you perceive these human children as a link to your 18th century American heritage."

Dr. Crusher nodded touchingly. "I seem to do, yes, Data."

"Then perhaps in essence you could regard them as souvenirs of the past."

"Data, we're talking about people, not things," remarked Dr. Crusher in a serious tone of voice.

"My apologies, Doctor," replied Data. "My choice of words, I suspect, proved to have an offensive side effect."

"None taken," replied Dr. Crusher, as she beamed at him.

There was an audible double-beep emanating from the speaker system from Dr. Crusher's combadge.

"Bridge to Dr. Crusher." It was Capt. Picard.

Dr. Crusher tapped her combadge. "Go ahead, Captain," she replied in a brisk manner.

"Doctor, how did the scans go?"

"For the most part, they pretty much proceeded without incident. I have to admit, the children behaved remarkable well, given their age. Most children in this century would normally…"

"Yes, Doctor, I get your point. Have you created medical records for each of the children and obtained any biological traces from them?"

"That's an affirmative."

"Well done, Doctor. We're preparing to get underway. Picard out."

Dr. Crusher simply shrugged and continued tapping away at her tricorder.

* * *

On the bridge of the U.S.S. Enterprise

Corellian Sector

1945 hours

Even during the evening the main bridge was still rife with various activities on the monitor stations, though only a slight handful of uniformed personnel were present. The only officers on the Bridge were Capt. Picard, Commander Riker, and Lt. Cmdr. Worf.

"Mr. Keswick, set a course for home. Warp factor 2. Scan the area for any additional alien vessels we might encounter in this sector."

"Aye, captain," replied the port helmsman, clicking away at a few touch-buttons on the helm console.

"The region's kind of sparse here," remarked Riker in a wry manner. "What makes you think there might be more alien vessels of the kind we encountered?"

"I'm not sure as of yet, Number One," replied Picard. "But I'm rather curious of this region myself." Riker crossed his arms.

"Besides," added Picard. "I feel that the answer regarding the presence of the children, whether they're from the 18th century or not, might lie somewhere in here."

Riker sighed. "I don't know about you, Captain, but I'm going back to my quarters to help myself to a goodly pot of black coffee."

"Very well. We'll inform you if we encounter further alien craft in this sector."

With a genial nod, Riker departed from the bridge and into the center turbolift, followed by the doors closing behind.

* * *

A/N (1): I'm not quite sure that Nan's eyes are green. I've done a visual Analysis on an image of Nan from , and it looks like that Nan's eyes are of a somewhat greenish color. If you suspect otherwise, do let me know in your reviews.

A/N (2): The sci-fi technobabble about the discussion of eye color and its relation to genetics, as well as the stuff concerning the details of how an MRI functions, may not be very accurate in this Felicity fanfic. The technobabble is to give you a feel as to what it's like to hear Data ramble on to show off his scholarly aspects. If all this technobabble is going blah, blah blah in your head, don't worry. Even Felicity and her friends and siblings feel the same way too (though that's because all the stuff in the future is overwhelmingly new to them."

A/N (3): I think it's quite possible that based on what little I've read that the gene for green eyes is recessive, so Felicity's personal history on her eye color seems to get a mite confusing.

Sorry this chapter dragged. I wanted to give you a picture as to what was going on in the Biomedical Lab, just like a movie.

The next chapter coming up: Lissie and Ben in Ten-Forward! A favorite of all avid/rabid Felicity fans. (This chapter may be slow in coming, as I have to think of dialogue for Lissie and Ben, written in the style of their 18th century time. I asked pansyphoenix for help on this one, emailing a sample of that future chapter and she gave me interesting suggestions. Now it's pretty much a matter of coming up with the dialogue using said suggestions.)


	12. Chapter 12

_**Star Trek: The Next Generation – Souvenirs**_

**Written By:**_** Commander Cody CC-2224**_

Brief Notes:

Ah, yes, the favorite moment of Ben and Lissie having some alone time together. And in Ten-Forward! Enjoy.

Thanks to MackenzieW and pansyphoenix on their advice concerning young love.

* * *

CHAPTER 12

The _U.S.S. Enterprise_ was now at warp speed. The effects of the surroundings of the warp field comprised of white lines, nearly a foot or two long, which slowly sped past the cruising vessel as it was traveling faster than light. Capt. Picard decided to keep the ship cruising at warp factor 2 because he wanted to give the vessel's external sensors a chance to perform a fairly thorough sweep of every area of the uncharted Corellian sector.

From outside the observation platform on Ten-Forward could be seen the sought-after red-haired, green-eyed beauty with her cream-colored gown, draped with her bright-red cloak with the hood hanging down her back, and her mobcap perched on her pretty head in a fairly tidy manner. Felicity stood erect in a sort-of ladylike posture, her arms hanging downward with her hands clasped together, as she stared intently into the starry blackness of space, with the white dashes slowly traversing past the ship. Just the very scene was enough to mesmerize her, and she wanted to enjoy this enlivening moment, as she suspected very strongly that the likelihood of ever experiencing such a moment like that again was slim.

A visitor entered the port side of the room. It was Ben. He noticed how quiet Felicity was, which was kind of peculiar to him, given that she always loved to chat and have a good tease with him every time he assisted Mr. Merriman at the General Store. Slowly he made his approach without making so much of an audible sound for Felicity to hear.

"Looking at the stars, little Lissie?" asked Ben in a genial tone of voice.

"Mmm," replied Felicity pleasurably, as she smiled in a placid manner.

Ben sauntered to the same area in the lounge where Felicity was standing. When he was at close proximity with her he gradually began to unloosen his tongue.

"You look rather pensive today," he remarked gently. "Normally you would be quite talkative. 'Twas always the case whenever you and I assisted your father in the General Store." He slowly formed a smirk on his face. "Has the cat got your tongue?"

"Nay," replied Felicity, smiling. "I was just looking at the stars zipping past by." She sighed happily to her heart's content. "'Tis so beautiful, the stars. It makes one realize the awesome wonders of Divine Providence."

"Indeed it does, Lissie. Way before I was apprenticed to your father's household I would on occasion poke my head out of the window and gaze at the starry sky."

Felicity was glad that even Ben could appreciate the wonders of the Supreme Creator. But there seemed to be something unsettling within the depths of her heart that she longed to unburden to him. A brief moment of silence lasted for nearly half a minute before Felicity could confide her deep longings.

"You were right when you said I was quite pensive. Indeed I was thinking about something as I watched the stars flow by."

"Pray, what is that?"

"I was thinking about home." There was a wistful tone in Felicity's voice. "For me the stars seem to pose as a reminder of that."

For some unknown reason Ben could not help chuckling to himself. "Lissie, we've only been in here for nearly a day and already you're thinking about home?"

Felicity gave a demurely serious look. "There's nothing wrong with a girl longing for something that really matters to her, is there?" she asked, the inflection of her tone of voice raising on the last phrase.

"Well," replied Ben hesitantly. "Not…really. It's just that…well…there's plenty of people, places, and things yet to encounter on this ship. Isn't it a little too early to be thinking about home at this time, when we've only been here for at least one day?"

Felicity sighed wistfully. "I suppose…" she replied, her voice trailing off. It was then that Ben realized that Felicity was quite homesick. "…But home is where the heart is," continued Felicity. "And I feel a great longing to go back."

"Well, I suppose you could satisfy that longing, but only partially," put in Ben. "I suspect that in this timeline, even if Williamsburg existed, 'twould not be the same as you knew it before."

"That's just the thing," replied Felicity. "It's not just Williamsburg itself that I sorely miss. It's also the store; the tea lessons at Miss Manderly's…" Felicity looked at Ben and chuckled to herself. "Oh, I hope you'll forgive me for saying that because you constantly berate me about the connection between tea and the King's tax."

"Even that is, I think, quite a long time ago. I would suspect it matters not, Lissie."

"Thank you for being understanding about that, Ben," replied Felicity. She continued to confide her homesick longings to him. "And it's also the people I miss, too," she said wistfully. "Even thinking about the gossipy Mrs. Fitchett makes me feel at home too; I wish I had not taken all of this for granted. Then there's especially Father, Mother, and baby Polly…and oh, yes, my beloved horse, Penny…Oh, how I miss them all…" Her voice trailed off again as a tear trickled down her right cheek. She gently brushed it away and continued staring blankly at the starry blackness. "They're not only gone from space, but also in time," she added as she sniffled lightly.

"Then perhaps I was right in mentioning the possibility that the people we knew back in Williamsburg are deceased long ago," replied Ben, trying not to sound too inconsiderate.

Felicity heaved a rather wistful sigh. "There are times when I hate having to be the strong one," she confessed. She turned her head to her left side to face Ben. "Please tell me that I deserve a good cry," she half-pleaded.

But Ben gave a serious look to him that seemed indicate disapproval, but forced a half-smile. Felicity abruptly turned her head to face the observation window, brushed back the tendrils of her bright reddish-auburn hair that gleamed in one of the shining fluorescent lights in the not-so-darkened room. _Oh, when are we going home_, she thought to herself. _Where IS home?_

But Ben seemed to read her thoughts. _Tsk, tsk, tsk…Girls…_he thought to himself. Then he poured forth his thoughts. "If you're still thinking about home, Lissie, it's back on God's green earth, though as I've said before I have a strong feeling that in this timeline 'twill not be the same as you've known it." He put an 8-second pause between his statement and his next one. "As to whether you deserve a good cry, well…I suppose you can shed your tears on my sleeve of my coat for now, since there seems to be no other cloth in sight at the moment…" So Felicity leaned on Ben's right shoulder, almost unable to keep herself from crying lightly.

It took some time for Felicity to partially overcome her nostalgia about her beloved Williamsburg. "Oh, well," she sighed, wiping her slightly tear-streaked face and blowing her nose. "I guess I'll just have to stay strong, for you, and for the rest of us. 'Twill not do for me to dwell too much on the past, " she said finally. "I crave your pardon if I have acted childishly in that manner," she added, involuntarily chuckling to herself.

"That's my good girl," said Ben, with a genial grin on his face. "Perhaps it was not childish to act that way, Lissie. Mayhap even your mother would feel the same way, too." He gave a cursory glance at the little wet spots on the top right shoulder area of his coat and faced Felicity. "Shall we find place to sit? Mayhap we can find more things to talk about.

"Aye," replied Felicity, beaming at him.

The two found a 3x3 square table nearest the observation window and sat on top together. Ben sat on the left side, dangling his legs. Felicity sat on the right side in a rather unladylike manner, either crossing her legs while they were dangling below, or just letting them fall straight down. It was quite a romantic scene to behold.

"You know what, Ben? For some seemingly strange reason, I'm starting to wish that we don't have to go back."

Ben let out a light chuckle. "May I ask why?"

Felicity continued staring at the starry blackness in the observation window. "'Tis so much safer here. In this timeline we won't have to worry about getting hungry or sick or cold; did you ever notice how congenial the climate is on this ship? And most of all, I won't have to worry myself over the matter of you going off to fight in a war, where I fear I may lose you forever."

Ben heaved a sigh, as he suspected that Felicity was getting too carried away with the creature comforts of the 24th century. "My dearest Lissie, I suspect even this timeline has its primrose paths and interesting times. The grass is not always greener on the other side of the hill…" He paused shortly, as he was aware he was about to come to the part that involved his call of duty. "Besides, if there is an armed conflict taking place, my sense of honor may oblige me to join in the fight."

Felicity looked at him seriously. "Ben, it's not just for my own personal gratification that I want you to be here with me. We need you; we all do. We; Elizabeth, Nan, and William. You're the eldest among us, and you seem to be much braver and stronger than we are." She gently took his hand.

Ben seemed to be quite flattered by the compliment, but then he started to have an inclination to test Felicity. "But Lissie," he blurted. "There are many gentlemanly people on board this ship that will be more than willing to protect you and your friend, brother, and sister if I'm gone."

Felicity was shocked at the hinted insensitivity that Ben was making. "Benjamin Davidson, surely you don't mean that! We don't just need someone who is strong and brave as you are; we need someone who is trustworthy. Someone who knows us from the depths of our hearts, and understands us when times that try our souls go our way," she pleaded with longing eyes.

Ben heaved a sigh, but in a rather sarcastic manner. "As usual, 'tis almost hard to refuse you, Felicity Merriman. If prudence dictates, I'll stay. But 'twould be cowardly to run away if I was asked to join in the fight."

'Tis cowardly to run away to leave behind those who need you and trust you," reproached Felicity. Ben sighed again in a snort manner. Felicity did always have a way of making him feel guilty and judged, he thought to himself.

"Besides, Ben," continued Felicity, "I would hate to see you go. Just the very thought will break my heart. When Grandfather died, I felt as though a portion of my heart was torn away."

"Mayhap even a greater portion will be torn away from you as well if I were to leave you?"

"Aye," replied Felicity sadly. Then she drooped and shook her head in a regretful manner. "I don't know, Ben. You probably won't understand it because you just never love a person the way a girl does."

Ben was taken aback. "That's not true, Lissie!" he replied indignantly. "I feel the same way you do when you love a person. If you were taken away, heaven forbid, I would be in the depths of despair, just like you. We've known each other for so long; I don't think I can ever find another girl like you." He slumped slightly on the table, slowly exhaling from his mouth. It seemed that a connection between Ben and Felicity that that was gradually taking shape ever since his arrival at the Merriman's.

"All right, Ben, you made your point" sighed Felicity. "I'm sorry I acted hastily in my judgment toward you."

There was a brief moment of silence before the incident of Felicity's interview on board the Corellian science vessel impacted on his mind. He straightened his posture as he sat on top of the table.

"Lissie?" asked Ben.

Felicity turned to face him in the eye. "Hmm?"

"When we were on the alien ship, during your so-called interview with the captain, why were you immediately brought back to the brig rather than you waiting outside his quarters, like the rest of us?"

Felicity was rather hesitant to answer, as the incident involved her being subjected to the captain's shameful conduct. But she always knew that Ben could keep secrets, even the ones too discreditable to risk divulging. _But even so_, she thought to herself, _If Ben knew about this, he may not want to be my friend anymore He's too honorable a lad_. Nevertheless she plucked up the courage to divulge her story in the form of an epigrammatic answer.

"Well…erm…I really don't think it's something that you should her, Ben…" she replied, her voice seeming to trail off. She squirmed nervously. "…But…I suppose I should be honest with you. The captain was trying to take liberties with me."

"You don't say…" replied Ben indignantly trying to calm himself. "What kind of things?"

"Well…he rested his hand on my lips, slapped me on my cheek in a rather offensive manner, though I'm fortunate it was gentle…and…"

"What else?" asked Ben, trying not to sound too rude to Felicity.

"Well, this may come to you as a shock, Ben…". She lowered her voice so as not to be heard by the rest of the personnel and civilians present. "He almost touched the area of my bosom."

"Almost?" asked Ben, wide eyed. "What happened, then?"

"Well…" Felicity sighed crossly. "I slapped his hand away."

"Whoa!" exclaimed Ben quietly. "Lissie, I know that was awful brave of you to protect your honor and your innocence, but wouldn't that have precipitated the captain's wrath? You know full well about men being rudely rejected, and they can do all sorts of nasty things against you if they get ill-tempered."

"Aye. It probably would. But I don't care," Felicity replied tartly, crossing her arms. 'Twas shameful of him to take liberties on me like lake. He certainly was no gentleman to be acting in that despicable manner."

Ben exhaled slowly. "I'd have to agree with you Lissie. He certainly was no gentleman at all if he intended an assault upon your innocence. I'd feel the same way if I were you."

Felicity took his right hand and squeezed it gently. "Thank you, Ben for being very understanding with me on that matter. If it was anyone else…"

Ben breathed a sigh of relief. "Well…" he trailed off. "But you must thank the good Lord that his manner was not violent and that he had not gone too far."

Felicity became indignant that she immediately slid off the table and faced him squarely as she stood erect. "Benjamin Davidson! How can you be so inconsiderate!"

"'Tis not inconsideration, dear Lissie," replied Ben gently. "'Tis gratitude to Providence that you were fortunate not to undergo further mistreatment under the captain's hands."

Felicity hung her head. "I'm sorry, Ben. I was acting childish again. Please forgive me."

"I will, Lissie, if you'll forgive me about my inconsideration of your feelings regarding the incident with the captain."

"Only on one condition," Felicity added tartly. She was near blushing at what she was about to request of him. Slowly she formed her face to feature a mischievous grin. "I want you to kiss me."

Ben was taken aback that he instinctive slid off the table to face her. "_Kiss_ you?"

"Aye," Felicity replied sheepishly.

"Pray, where, specifically?"

"Oh, in the cheek," she replied in a rather casual and wistful manner. Felicity tapped her left cheek gently three times with her right hand index finger, as if she invited Ben to kiss it.

Ben's manner was hesitant. "M-May I ask why?"

Felicity looked up at his face with uncertainty. "Is there anything wrong with you doing so?"

"Well," sputtered Ben. "There's nothing really wrong with that, in the usual sense of the word. I'm just rather curious as to why I would do that. Your father wouldn't really approve."

"Well, I'm afraid Father's not here," replied Felicity tartly, as she crossed her arms and stared back into the starry blackness of space. She was rather sad about that, after what Ben told about the Merriman and Cole family members being deceased and extant a long time ago, 8 centuries back into the past.

"Besides, Nan and William and Elizabeth are not here to laugh at us," continued Felicity, trying to assure Ben that what he would do would at least go unnoticed by her siblings and her best friend, if not by God, as well as the rest of the Starfleet personnel and civilians hanging around in Ten-Forward.

Ben heaved a serious sigh. "You force me to walk a fine line, Felicity Merriman."

Felicity decided that the only way she could get him to do it was to make him think that she would let someone else do the kissing. "If you don't want to, I can always simply allow someone else to kiss me instead," she declared with an air of superiority, as she crossed her arms in a firm manner.

Now this got Ben thinking to himself, _I could end up losing her if I don't act now; the time for being shy, awkward is over for me._ But his sense of propriety sort of discouraged it. Nevertheless…

"All right, Lissie. But this will be our secret between us. If we ever go back to our own time, we will have to agree that this has never taken place."

"If we ever…" replied Felicity.

Felicity closed her eyes and smiled, awaiting Ben to administer the kiss. He felt his heart flutter at what he was about to do. Slowly, as if he was savoring the moment, he brought his face close to Felicity's left cheek. Pressing his lips gently without being to hard, he kissed. And that was pretty much it…or so it was. Slowly she slid her hand on her cheek, as if an indelible mark of Ben's lips was on her. In her mind it was a love mark to her.

Ben cleared his throat. "Um…I don't know if I should ask this to you, but can you do the same for me as well?"

Felicity beamed at him in reply. "Why, yes, Benjamin Davidson. After all, one good turn deserves another." And she slowly kissed Ben's cheek. His heart beat rapidly at that point, and still did a few milliseconds after the kiss was administered.

Then, as they stood near the observation window with the starry space speeding past, both Ben and Felicity faced each other and stared into each other's eyes. Slowly Ben placed both his hands on the sides of Felicity's face and stared intently at Felicity's snappy, nail-sparkling emerald-green eyes, which seemed to glitter like a thousand tiny diamonds when the radiant fluorescent light source near them bathed them with its encompassing rays. Felicity could feel a slight chill in Ben's hands as they touched her soft, tender face; Ben he could feel a radiating warmth in the palm of his hands.

Then slowly their faces met. As that rendezvous was nearing its completion their hearts beat feverishly as the rested their lips, though not in a very passionate manner. After all this was their first time in their maiden experiment with love-making, so they had to take it a little easier. Ben could literally feel his heart pounding over the sensation of coming into contact with Felicity's sweet, soft, warm, young lips. Felicity could feel the same thing as well as she came into contact with Ben's lips as well. Then they slowly kissed with their mouths closed.

Unbeknownst to these two lovebirds, Nan was peeking from the doorway. At the sight of her older sister and Ben's mild lovemaking, she gasped in shock, her right hand over her mouth. She slowly slid at least 2 feet away from the doorway and ran back into the corridors.

Then all of a sudden a few seconds later Ben recoiled, but not because Nan was peeking. It was at a random moment in time that he came to the realization of the impropriety of that affair.

Horrorstruck he faced Felicity squarely in the face. Felicity carried the same look of shock as well.

"Felicity, I don't think we should do this."

"Why not?" asked Felicity in a small voice.

"'Tis not proper. It's…it's…"

"Ben, tell me. What's wrong?" asked Felicity forcefully.

"…It's just that…well… the thought of kissing a girl your age is rather…quaint," stuttered Ben. He hung his head. "I don't know, Lissie. To me…well…it just seems all wrong."

Then Ben gave cursory glances around every area of Ten-Forward and faced Felicity. "Besides, I don't think we were conscious enough about the idea of people intently staring at us and gossiping among themselves about us children making such a spectacle in a public area, with them thinking that I'm treating you like, well, a common animal."

Felicity winced at that ugly description of that affair, when she thought it was a beautiful and heartwarming one. "What does it matter what other people think?" bleated Felicity.

"I'm afraid it matters a whole lot, Lissie-girl," replied Ben in a rather serious tone of voice. "It's about your honor, and your innocence, as well as both mine. If witnesses start gossiping about this…"

This time Felicity could not control her protestations. "'Tis _so_ unfair," she moped resentfully.

Ben wondered whether he should tell Felicity that that was too bad, but decided to refrain from it in order not to hurt her feelings. He simply nodded in reply.

"Come. Let's go back to the guest quarters," he beckoned, as he lovingly encompassed his left arm around Felicity. The two slowly trudged out of Ten-Forward.

Back in the guest quarters Elizabeth Nan, and William were changing into the new 24th century nightgowns the tailor delivered. A few seconds after they dressed themselves for bed the door-chime sounded. (Ee-Eep!)

"Come," called Elizabeth sweetly. The sliding doors opened and in waltzed both Felicity and Ben. On the way back to the guest quarters it took some time for Felicity to recover her composure after the mild experiment with love-making; however she tried to be of good cheer for the sake of her siblings and her best friend. The door shut completely behind them.

"I take it you had a good time with each other, I hope?" inquired Elizabeth gently, as she plaited her flowing flaxen-blond hair.

"Aye, we did," replied Felicity, grinning at her friend. She noticed both her little siblings preparing the bed covers. "And how were Nan and William?"

"Oh, they were very well-behaved," replied Elizabeth in a genial manner. "I have to admit, I almost seem to enjoy playing with them," she added, as she cast a glance at a new checker set that both she and the little mites were using. It was slightly in disarray.

"We were about to have a little gathering during devotion, but I couldn't find a single Good Book," Elizabeth continued. "Both of you weren't here at that point, and when I asked that little device over yonder for that," she continued, pointing at the replicator, "It couldn't even make it appear from heaven itself."

"That figures. It looks like the replicator, or however the call it, can only generate drinks," replied Ben wryly. "Nothing else."

"Well, it's getting rather late," remarked Felicity, as she proceeded to take off her shoes, stockings, cream-colored gown, and petticoats only her shift, undergarments and her mobcap were left, folded her gown neatly and sorted the rest of her accessories near the trundle bed that Elizabeth pulled out. She was anxious not to give a chance for Elizabeth, Nan, and William to gossip about what they would suspect she and Ben were doing in Ten-Forward among themselves, in case anyone of them managed to take a peep at what was going on in there. "If there's nothing else to do, can we douse the lights?"

"Not yet," replied Ben indignantly, as he took off his shoes and most of his clothes until only his shift and undergarments were left. After placing his disheveled clothes near the trundle bed, he stood up.

"Now we can douse the lights," declared Ben. He looked around the room. "The only problem that we face is how to do that."

"Well, the Counselor made a mention that the bathroom is run by something called a 'com-pu-ter'," she said, trying to be helpful.

"Then perhaps we should ask this 'com-pu-ter'-whatsit to turn off the lights for us, then," he replied. Ben immediately cleared his throat and proceeded to enunciate his command. "Com-pu-ter…" An audible two-pitched beep emanated from the interior speaker system. "…douse the lights."

"Specify parameter levels."

"I don't understand what in Providence's name does that talking machine mean by that," remarked Ben in a rather wry manner. "I guess we'll just have to look for a switch thing. A lever of some sort, whether big or small."

Suddenly his eye caught something in the form of a touch-button switch. "Perhaps I'll try that one," he said, as he moseyed to the area near the entranceway, where the weird-looking switch was. Slowly running his hands in a downward direction, he pressed gently.

For the children, the effect was instantaneous. The ceiling-based fluorescent lights gradually dimmed themselves. Ben kept pressing the little touch-button instinctively until Felicity told him to stop. "I think that will do," she called.

"Aye," put in Elizabeth. "We don't want it too dark; otherwise we could literally stumble around blindly and hurt ourselves as a result."

"Fine," replied Ben. He took his right hand index finger off the touch pad. The lighting level was dimmed two-thirds of the way, with a bit of residual light remaining around the room, gleaming by a smidgen from the fluorescent light sources.

Ben plopped himself on the trundle bed that was extracted from the king-sized bed. "Good night, young ladies."

"Good night," called the older girls.

"Good night," squeaked Nan and William, who were squeezed between them on the bed.

Felicity, Elizabeth, Nan, and William curled up with each other on the king-sized bed to get some sleep. But it took some time for Felicity to drift off into dreamland. As she rested her head and hands on the foam pillow, with the covers draped over her, and faced the dark ceiling with her eyes opened in a relaxed manner, she pondered over the mild love-making affair she had with Ben in the Ten-Forward lounge. For the most part she felt relieved that Elizabeth and William were ignorant of that affair, since as far as she was concerned they both never made a single mention of it at all. Until…

* * *

Nearly ten minutes ticked away. All the children were fast asleep, save for Nan, who was situated nearest Felicity's left side of the bed. She could not shove from her mind her older sister's love-making scene with Ben. Now she found it irresistible to confide this matter to her.

She turned over to the side of her sleeping sister and shook her gently that Felicity was nearly half awake.

"Lissie?" Lissie?" she whispered.

"Mmmph," replied Felicity sleepily. "What is it, Nanster?"

"Did Ben ever kiss you?" she asked.

"Aye, he did."

Nan was shocked at her older sister's sheepish admittance. "Really?"

"Mm-hmm," replied Felicity in a drowsy manner.

"Eww! Lissie! How could you let him! 'Tis most improper for a gentlewoman to…" Nan was interrupted when her older sister placed a hand on her mouth.

"That's for me to know, and not for you to know, little Nan," replied Felicity, smiling as hard as she could. "What made you ask such a question?"

"I saw Ben kiss you today. In Ten-Forward," she said solemnly in a low voice.

This was enough to wake Felicity in shock, though she lay curled up in bed. "You don't say?" she gasped.

Nan nodded with a mischievous smile. "But I didn't tell anyone," she assured. "Because I was afraid you would…well, you know what I mean, Lissie."

"Thank you, sister dear, for being considerate," replied Felicity.

"How did your first kiss go? Did you like it?"

"It felt…pleasurable," replied Felicity hesitantly. "Now, go to bed. Tomorrow will be another exciting day for all of us on this ship.

Felicity was about to go to sleep, but Nan kept pressing the matter further.

"Lissie?"

"What now, sister dear?"

"Do you love Ben?"

Felicity became slightly annoyed, even when she was sleepy. "Go to sleep, Nan."

With a heavy sigh little Nan shut her eyes and gradually drifted off to sleep. Felicity stroked the tendrils of her younger sister's hair. _She looks so much like a little angel_, she thought to herself. She laid her head back on the foam pillow with her hands near her head, breathed a satisfying sigh of relief that came with sleeping on a luxurious-feeling divan, and tried to drift off into slumber, despite Ben's hedonistic snores coming from the trundle bed.

* * *

Whew! That was the first semi-graphic romance scene I have ever made. Of course, devotion to Ben/Lissie has made it possible. I have to admit, I'm not that much for romance scenes, especially the ones that are featured in modern-day movies depicting modern-day eras, but when it comes to Lissie and Ben, it's just too irresistible. I got a few ideas from pansyphoenix's Dark Phoenix journal, as well as MRSTJ1's Felicity fanfic narrative _It's Hard To Refuse You_. I just hope I have not overdone (or overdramatized) Lissie and Ben's romantic scene too much (I say "experiment" because this is their first time, and I didn't want it to be too extreme).

In fact, I should show you a certain email containing advice that pansyphoenix gave me when I asked for help on coming up with engaging dialogue for Lissie and Ben during their romantic time at Ten-Forward. It really helped a whole lot because it gave some hints to some of their characteristics and the way they would usually talk in their day (some typos and grammar structure are rectified in the excerpt):

"18th century dialogue can be tricky, can't it! But you can get the hang of it by remembering [that] contradictions were used, but not that much. Folks that came from middle-class to upper-class tended to sound more prim and proper, but in Felicity's case, she sounds like someone who knows how to talk prim and proper, but doesn't want to! There was a lot of 'tis and 'twas and mayhapses, and people tied to use intelligent-sounding words, though the word 'dang' was used a lot! When sarcasm was used, it was very snappy! So think 'snappy' and 'prim' and you'll get along 'simply smashing'!

Ben and Lissie have noting off limits between them; Ben may be awkward when it comes to girl stuff, but when he speaks from the heart, he feels no need to beat around the bush! I would imagine Felicity being homesick in those new surroundings in which hardly anything is familiar and home seems so far away, and Ben sees her trying to be strong for the sake of her friends and loved ones and reaches out to her. If he knew that rude Captain [Fass] tried to take liberties with her, he'd probably be enraged and be more considerate of her feelings! She (Felicity) can sound remarkably grown-up sometimes! He (Ben) can see the changes coming over her, so to say. He can see that she is becoming quite the sought-after beauty we know she's becoming already!

One of the things they (Lissie & Ben) they have most in common is that people always underestimate them – even Ben is always underestimating her! She could point that out to him, and say she's not going to press him for his attention anymore, and THAT may get him to think _hey, I could lose her to another if I don't act – the time for being shy and awkward is OVER! _"


	13. Chapter 13

_**Star Trek: The Next Generation – Souvenirs**_

**Written By:**_** Commander Cody CC-2224**_

CHAPTER 13

On board the _U.S.S. Enterprise_ (NCC-1701-D)

Guest Quarters (Room 0313), Deck 10

April 12, 2370 A.D.

0821 hours

The guest room was quite dark. Well, it was not entirely dark. A bit of residual light glimmered through the ceiling-based fluorescent lamps, so even a person with normal eyes could navigate his way around the dimmed room fairly well, depending if he or she tread carefully around. Another reason for the slightly higher level of pitch-black was because the guest quarters was windowless; however, even if it did have windows, it would still be dark simply because of the dark surrounding cast by the blackness of the universe.

Felicity was by far the first Virginian colonial child to ever wake up on board the _Enterprise_, in the seemingly luxurious surroundings of the guest quarters, right after a good night's sleep that felt almost heavenly to her. It was heavenly, she thought to herself congenially, because she did not have to bear listening to her mother's wake-up calls, which would on occasion become a tad bothersome to her. With a seemingly hedonistic yawn, she pushed the bed covers and linens that felt so luxuriously smooth and soft to the touch (in all her life she had almost never experienced sleeping on a bed with sheets like that), and jumped out of bed, setting her bare feet on the thin gray carpet floor.

She stretched her arms in a satisfying and exhilarating manner, and came back to the realization that the room was still dark, after nearly a long good-night's sleep. If this was supposed to be the next day, then why is the room still dark, she thought anxiously to herself. But then a thought came to her: the switch. She itched to tamper with that switch thing, based on what she observed from how Ben did it, but dared not do so at the moment, since Ben could get angry with her and end up getting everyone in trouble as a result of her recklessness. Besides, even if she knew how to switch on the lights. Fueled with the determination to get him to rectify the problem, she decided to wake him up from his glorious sleep on a real bed with sheets.

"Ben?" called Felicity sweetly. The only response relayed to her was a slight stir. This time Felicity was impatient.

"Ben!" she snapped.

The snapping call stirred Ben completely this time, but his entire body, as well as his state of mind, felt very sleepy.

"Mmph. What is it, Lissie-girl?" he asked sleepily.

"Any idea as to why 'tis still dark in here?" she inquired.

"We're in a closet," replied Ben, annoyed at being woken up from a sleep that felt heavenly to him. "Why, you're still used to waking up in your little bedchamber with the glorious sunlight shining through your windowpane?"

"Then do you mind if I brighten this awfully dark room? I strongly suspect 'tis morning by now."

"What makes you think you can do it?"

"I watched you douse the lights by tampering with a small switch thing. I suspect we can regain the light by tampering with it again in the opposite direction."

"We're still sleeping, Lissie," groaned Ben. "'Tis rude to wake a man who's trying to catch his forty winks. Besides, I want to experience the thrill of sleeping in a sheltered place other than the horse stables that I've known for so long." Ben, being used to sleeping in the stables at the Merrimans' home, did not like being wakened abruptly by Felicity, who was used to waking up in her bedchamber after a good night's sleep.

Felicity gained her composure and stood (and acted) in a superior, ladylike manner. She cleared her throat.

"Computer," she announced sweetly. An audible 2-pitched beep emanated from the speaker system. "What time is it exactly?"

The computer voice let out its blaring answer with a varied inflection in its tone of a dulcet female voice. "IT IS NOW 0824 HOURS."

"Well, that's just maddeningly unhelpful," muttered Ben sarcastically in a sleepy manner. "I have absolutely no idea what 0824 hours is. And I'm trying to _sleep_, Lissie," he said emphatically.

"Well, I don't know about you, Benjamin Davidson, but I think 'tis time to brighten this awfully dark room. All of you have been sleeping for Lord knows how long; the past nine hours, I dare say. Are you all going to waste the whole day?"

Ben roused from the trundle bed in a half-hearted manner. "Fine. Have it your way, Felicity Merriman. But let's not wake the others until we know exactly what this computer thing means by 0824 hours. Otherwise you could end up hearing rude complaints from your best friend." Then Ben cleared his throat. "Computer, what is the meaning of 0-8-2-4 hours?"

"SPECIFY PARAMETERS."

"Talking to that computer voice is like talking to the Oracle at Delphi," remarked Ben in a wry manner. "Um, American," he blurted.

"THE STANDARD AMERICAN DEFINITION OF ZERO-EIGHT-TWENTY-TWO HOURS IS EIGHT TWENTY-TWO IN THE MORNING."

"Now _that's_ a little more helpful," declared Ben.

"Thank you!" exclaimed Felicity, as she breathed a sigh of relief. "Now may we have some light now?"

Ben sighed, and formed a light grin in his face. "We shall, dearest Lissie. Fire away."

Felicity approached the doorway and pressed the little touch-button until the entire room illuminated. Elizabeth, Nan, and William were slowly stirring from their deep slumber.

"I guess that's as high as it can be illuminated," put in Ben. "Thank the Lord. I dare say 'tis most ungodly to stare at a blinding light," he added, chuckling lightly to himself.

"Pray, what's so ungodly about that?" inquired Felicity, returning the laugh. "I should think 'tis total darkness that would be so ungodly."

"Perhaps I chose an inappropriate phrase. I should have said 'unnatural'."

Ben stared at the comfortably bright lights illuminating the room. "You know, if every home in our time had lights that like that that could just simply flick to dim or brighten, 'twould be most convenient," he remarked wistfully. It was remarkable how 5 children from the 18th century past could truly appreciate the marvel of a modern amenity that post people in the modern period often take for granted.

"Aye, tis true," replied Felicity. "But I personally prefer candlelight. 'Tis more homely."

"Candlelight is a little too dim."

"I know, but if you think about it, you feel as if you're back at home and hearth." Felicity looked around the room. "Candlelight does provide for a very romantic setting, don't you think, Ben?"

"Perhaps. But let's not dim this room to candlelight level yet, Lissie. We still need this goodly light."

"All right, Benjamin Davidson. We'll have it your way." With a light nod of sleepy acknowledgement, Ben proceeded to the bathroom to wash his face.

On the king-sized Ben, Elizabeth, Nan, and William were slowly waking up from their satisfying beauty-sleep.

"I dare say, that was the most quiet, restful night I have ever experienced," declared Elizabeth. "I've slept as I've never slept in Williamsburg."

"I'm sure Ben would agree with you on that," replied Felicity, beaming at her. "Given that he usually sleeps in the stable near our house."

"Aye," put in Elizabeth. "I'll bet he's going to miss this place if we ever go back to our world."

Felicity sighed gently in a contemplative manner. The nostalgia that she experienced during her time with Ben in Ten-Forward seemed to come back to her. Especially she loved the outdoors, and she seemed to find it rather unnatural for her to spend a single day cooped up in a room, much less on board a space vessel. _But at the same time, 'tis so much nicer here_, she thought to herself, feeling quite relieved.

Ben came out of the bathroom, feeling very much awake and refreshed from a good night's sleep. Felicity proceeded to the bathroom to wash her face and change, taking her cream-colored gown, cap, undergarments, stockings, and black-buckled shoes. The automatic sliding doors shut behind her.

While Elizabeth Nan, and William were getting dressed, Ben proceeded to the desk and for some unknown reason opened the front middle drawer at random, other than the fact that he was curious as to what was inside it.

Immediately he was taken aback. Upon opening the center top drawer he accidentally came across a Playboy magazine, which featured the semi-undraped form of the human female in bikinis. He was at odds to know where such a magazine came from and wondered who would have the audacity to sneak something like that into the guest quarters without their knowledge.

He had never seen such a magazine like that before. His sense of propriety discouraged it greatly, but the attractiveness of it was too irresistible, and he was drawn to these naturally luring images like a magnet. Slowly he took the magazine, turned his back to the room facing the wall, and carefully browsed through the pages.

Felicity emerged from the bathroom. Taking notice of Ben's back on her, it somehow came to her that he was up to something he didn't want her to see. She walked up to Ben as briskly as she could without making so much of an audible sound for him to hear. At a random moment Ben was about to throw the magazine back into the drawer when he caught Felicity's eyes. It seems that he was caught red-handed.

"Ben, might I inquire as to what you're…" she stopped and noticed the magazine. She did not see it in its entirety, but a strong urge of curiosity goaded her to take a peek.

"What's that thing you're holding?"

"I don't know, Lissie," replied Ben in a rather casual manner.

Felicity leaned over to see what the magazine was. She was shocked to see what the front cover was. A glossy image of a half-undraped form of a human female with her arms covering her bosom embossed the magazine cover.

In a fit of fiery indignation she rudely grabbed the magazine from Ben's hands, accidentally tearing the cover page partially, faced him with a glare as red as her hair, and berated him.

"_Ben_jamin _Da_vidson! That is des_pi_cable!" she snapped.

"Wha-" stuttered Ben. Now he was annoyed as ever. "Hey!" he exclaimed loudly.

Felicity browsed through the magazine in a cursory manner. She gasped in shock again, as the imagery perceived as licentious by people in her time was could ever be so repulsive to her.

"Images of undraped hussies?" she exclaimed loudly. She faced Ben again crossly. "I dare say, I have never seen _anything_ so revolting in my entire _life_!"

Now this time Ben was angry. He could put up with Felicity's constant admonitions when it came to acting considerate in front of people, but this time he couldn't take it. For him it was too much.

"Hey, I didn't ask for that…that _thing_…to be put on the desk, you know, Lissie," declared Ben angrily. "And since when did _you_ care? You're not that much of a proper young lady, the way I see it. What difference is it to _you_, anyway?"

"A world of difference, Benjamin Davidson!" exclaimed Felicity indignantly, flouncing over him. "I know 'tis one thing to go about barefoot while sitting on the roof, but 'tis another thing to look at girls with their clothes partially cast off! 'Tis _shame_ful!"

Elizabeth approached the scene, looking rather fearful. "What is it? What's going on?" she asked rather nervously.

"Ladies ask so many questions," sighed Ben in exasperation.

"They should!" declared Felicity crossly, thrusting the magazine to Elizabeth in a rude manner. Elizabeth browsed through the magazine in the same manner as Felicity did.

Elizabeth gasped in shock, her right hand to her heart. "Oh dear God," she said.

Then Nan piped up. "Where? Can I see it?" she queried innocently.

"Aye, me too," put in William. "Can I see it, too?"

Felicity faced her two little siblings. "Absolutely not!" she exclaimed crossly in a superior manner.

"But why not, Lissie?" asked Nan in a small voice.

Felicity approached her younger sister, leaned over to her, and whispered to her ear.

"Because that article contains repulsive images of hussies," she whispered in reply.

"What's a hussy?" asked Nan.

"'Tis an immoral woman, and we'll leave it at that."

"Eww!" exclaimed Nan, reacting loudly. Then she lowered her voice. "What do they do?"

"You're far too young to know the details, Nan, so stop asking."

Elizabeth nervously handed the magazine to her friend, who in turn rolled it up as tightly as she could, given that it was pretty thick. "Pray, where did such an article come from?" she asked.

Felicity could only shake her head and sigh in exasperation. "I don't know, Elizabeth. But I'm going to find out," she declared with gritted teeth.

Now this time Ben yanked the magazine from Felicity's dainty hands. "All right, Lissie," he shouted angrily. "If this stupid article upsets you so, I can just simply throw it away."

"Fine! That's settled then!" snapped Felicity. "And don't even think of daring to look at that despicable article again. If I catch you doing so…"

"Lissie!" exclaimed Elizabeth. Felicity turned around slowly, her mouth formed into a half O. Elizabeth gave Felicity a firm look.

"We don't need this anymore, Lissie," said Elizabeth. "You're scaring the younger children. Your headstrong temper is getting the better of you too much."

Felicity hung her head. "All right, Elizabeth, I'm sorry. Please forgive me."

Elizabeth put her hand on Felicity's shoulder, put her left index finger on Felicity's chin and gently raised it up. This time the glare had gone from Felicity's green eyes. "Just settle the matter between you and Ben quietly, all right, Lissie?"

Felicity wore the same serous look. "All right, Elizabeth."

Elizabeth turned the other way and gathered the two little mites under her wing. "Come on, children. Let's get you washed and dressed." Both Nan and William picked up their clothes and headed for the bathroom, leaving both Felicity and Ben to discuss the matter in private.

Ben stared at the slightly torn-up article. "Now the only problem that's left is where to get rid of it. I can't just simply stroll around the ship with this thing looking for the dump."

"Precisely," declared Felicity in a rather tart manner. "The rest of the people on board would start thinking of you as a depraved jacknape, and will no doubt start gossiping about how dissolute you are, carrying that repulsive thing about you."

"So it seems that our only solution is to throw it into the bathroom bin," replied Ben finally.

Felicity sighed crossly. "I suppose…" she replied. "Nan I don't think I should worry about too much. But you know how William is. He'll just simply fish it out of the bin and start gloating intently at those bawdy lurid pictures."

Ben sauntered to the desk, opened the front middle drawer, thrust the magazine back and shut the drawer with a fairly audible thump sound.

"I'm dying to know how such a loathsome article like that could ever be snuck into this room without our knowledge," complained Felicity.

Ben faced Felicity again. "Dunno," he replied, shrugging his shoulders.

Felicity crossed her arms and sauntered around the room at, strolling at a moderate speed. "I'm inclined to think 'tis probably that obnoxious Lieutenant Corbin, but I'm not very sure about that. Mayhap whoever did it probably wanted to get you in serious trouble by corrupting the innocence of your mind."

"I suppose it was probably a prank, Lissie," replied Ben. "Though we've seen him performing his pranks on scaring the children about that weird-looking machine we've been subjected to, I seem to have serious doubts that even this Mr. Corbin would go that far. If someone else knew about that, his occupation would no doubt slide into serious jeopardy."

"Well, prank or not, I have no intention of letting this despicable sneaking of indecent material into our room continue," declared Felicity in a superior tone of voice. "I intend to report this affair to the captain as soon as I can."

Ben grabbed hold of Felicity's left arm. Felicity stopped and turned her head.

"Lissie, let's not rush things!" he started. "We don't even know if it was that Lieutenant. It may have been someone else, or perhaps that thing was in there long before we arrived. Besides," he continued as he lowered his voice, 'let's not rush things. We don't even know if it was that Lieutenant. It may have been someone else, or perhaps that thing was in there long before we arrived."

Felicity crossed her arms and sighed.

"In addition to that we have no evidence, and if we report this to the captain and whoever did this knows we reported him…or her, that person can get us into a world of even more serious trouble. And we don't want any more trouble as it is, Lissie. For the time being let's let the matter drop for now."

Felicity turned abruptly to Ben and frowned. "Why? So you can relish the enjoyment of looking at more of these detestable pictures?" She lowered her voice to a gentle tone. "I love you, Benjamin Davidson. You're one of my best friends, and I don't want your mind to get corrupted by those detestable images."

Ben exhaled slowly. "I guess you're right, as usual, Lissie. But 'tis just that we don't want any more trouble on our hands as it is. Remember, we're new here. I'd rather run the risk of encountering such an article again than run the risk of the person who's doing this get us into even more serious and perhaps even dangerous snags."

"Such as?"

Ben sauntered to the king-sized bed and seated himself in an upright position, his elbows leaning on his legs. "Well," he began. "He…or she…could kidnap one of the children, threaten us, or…" His voice trailed off at the thought of those dreaded prospects.

Felicity gave Ben a worried look, as she bent over, her hands on her hips. "What is it?" she asked quietly.

"Well, given that some of the men and women in Ten-Forward were watching us kiss, either one of them could separate us. Possibly even threaten one of us to use as leverage in order to bend us to his or her will. Besides, you heard what your friend told you about the Lieutenant telling us that almost anything can happen on board this ship. We can't allow this to happen to any of us, Lissie. Or to your brother, your sister, and your friend."

Felicity hung her head in shame. "I guess you're right about that, Ben. Methinks I was too flighty and headstrong to even consider the consequences of what I was about to do. We'll drop the matter, for now." Then she raised her voice again in a rather unladylike manner, "But the next time that happens I personally will tell the captain about it," she declared finally."

"Fine with me. But perhaps not on the second time, Lissie. Do it on the third time. The second time, we assess the situation and collect whatever evidence we can glean from the incident."

Felicity nodded. "All right," she sighed.

* * *

Ben moseyed to the walk-in closet at the right corner of the guest quarters and opened both doors from the outside. As he surveyed its surroundings, he noticed what appeared to be a safe, which measured about a foot and a half long, and a foot wide, and a foot high. The safe was nestled 8 feet away from the floor, a considerable distance, he thought to himself, that even Nan and William could not beat.

He faced Felicity again. "Lissie?"

Felicity turned around." "What?" she asked, her inflection descending.

"I think I have an idea regarding our presentation of the case. Rather than getting rid of the magazines, we can stow them in this box thing," he said, prying the unlocked safe doors open without damaging the mechanism.

Felicity surveyed the surroundings and tilted her head upward to see the safe. "I dare say that's a good idea." She faced Ben. "Where's the magazine?"

""Tis in the center top drawer of the desk."

Felicity sprinted to the desk, opened the central top drawer, snatched the magazine, and slammed the drawer shut. Then she sprinted back to the closet and handed Ben the magazine. Ben in turn stretched his arm upward to reach the safe and managed to successfully stow it into the safe. Then he shut the safe door.

"If those articles keep a-coming, we'll collect them as evidence to present to the captain should we wish to report it."

Felicity nodded. "Thank you, Ben."

"You're welcome, Lissie-girl."

Then Felicity stopped and turned to face him again. "And if I catch you looking at that article again, I'm personally going to regret having my first kiss with you at Ten-Forward!"

"Whatever, Lissie."

The two children stalked out of the walk-in closet and shut the doors. After nearly half a minute, Elizabeth, Nan, and William emerged from the bathroom, fully dressed.

"So, did you somehow manage to get rid of that abominable article?" asked Elizabeth sweetly.

"Aye," replied Felicity. Then she came closer and whispered to her friend. "Actually, we stowed it away," she confided in a low voice.

Elizabeth gasped, hand on her heart. "Lissie!" she exclaimed quietly. "How could you?"

"We need evidence in case we intend to report this matter to the captain after three attempts."

"I see your point, Lissie, but what about your brother and sister? They'll want to search for that thing, too."

"Well, it's in a safe please where they won't be able to reach."

Nan piped up. "You said you stowed it away?"

"Where?" asked William.

"Nan!" Felicity exclaimed indignantly. "How can you be so nosy!"

Nan grinned impishly at her older sister.

"We're not telling you where it is. And if I catch you both looking at it, you'll be sorry. Now go. Shoo. We're talking grown-up things now."

Nan heaved a sigh. Both she and William sprinted near the bed to play with the checker set, since they seemed to have nothing interesting to do at the moment. Felicity, Elizabeth, and Ben were now grouped together, talking about the tour de force of the _Enterprise_, as well as the prospect of breakfast.

"The kindly doctor said that our tour of this ship will start sometime around in the morning," said Elizabeth.

"Did she say precisely when?" asked Ben.

"Well, she said it would start around 1000 hours, whatever it means."

"Hmm." Ben looked pensive. Then suddenly he remembered the interpretation of the clock. "I suspect that means ten in the morning."

"That must be about an hour from now," put in Felicity. She cleared her throat. "Com-pu-ter, what time is it exactly?"

"APPROXIMATELY 0841 HOURS."

"I think that would mean that 'tis almost nine," said Ben.

"That's wonderful," replied Felicity. "My stomach is growling, and I haven't had breakfast yet."

"Including the others," added Elizabeth.

"Mayhap I might be able to get something to eat for all of us from Ten-Forward," declared Ben. "Do you think the four of you can wait for me until I come back with the breakfast?"

"I suppose we could," replied Elizabeth. "But what about that replicator thing right there?"

"I'm afraid it seems to only generate drinks," said Ben, shrugging his right shoulder. "Don't know why." Then he raised his voice to a fairly high modulation. "But fret not, ladies. I'll be back. I've got to hurry if we're going to be completely refreshed in time for the tour."

"Wait, Ben!" cried Felicity. "Can I go with you?"

Ben began to feel rather elated at the prospect, but something was niggling on his mind, making him hesitant to acquiesce to Felicity's request. As much as he enjoyed having Felicity with him immensely, he somehow felt obliged to give Elizabeth a chance to go somewhere other than the guest quarters.

"Lissie, but what about your friend?" he asked somewhat hesitantly. "I think she'd want to go out for a change, and at the same time, someone has to watch Nan and William."

"I suppose…" said Felicity, her voice trailing off. She turned to her friend. "Elizabeth, do you want to go with him?"

"Well…" replied Elizabeth rather hesitantly. Even if Ben was quite friendly with her, she still found it difficult to associate herself with someone with different political views, given especially that Ben was rather hotheaded when it came to discussing matters of politics, since he was a Patriot and she was a Loyalist.

"I don't know, Lissie," continued Elizabeth in a small voice. "I have a strong feeling that Ben can be quite hotheaded when it comes to discussing political views. He puts up with me because he has to…"

"Elizabeth, please don't see things that way!" exclaimed Felicity. "Ben's beliefs are different from yours, but that doesn't mean he's not a friend! Besides, don't you want to go out for a change? I can stay with Nan and William."

Elizabeth slowly formed a smile on her face. "All right, Lissie. For your sake, I'll help myself to some time outside the guest quarters."

"Well, not for my sake. Do you want to be outside for a while?"

Elizabeth sighed wistfully. "I suppose…"

"Then 'tis settled then," replied Felicity. "I'll stay with Nan and William, you just enjoy yourself with Ben."

Elizabeth took hold of Felicity's left hand. "Thank you, Lissie," she said, smiling. Then she glanced at Nan and William, who were playing checkers, with a slight amount of fussing over whose turn was it to make the moves. "But I do have to admit," she continued, "'Tis quite satisfying to act like an older sister, after living with an overbearing one who keeps telling me what to do the entire time."

"Bananabelle?" asked Felicity. The girls burst into an outrageous fit of giggles. Ben cut in.

"Have you ladies decided yet?"

Felicity looked up. "Elizabeth has decided to go with you,  
she declared rather superiorly. "I hope you yourself don't feel to uncomfortable with _that_ idea."

"I should hope not…" replied Ben. As Elizabeth approached him in a ladylike fashion, Ben stood at the right side doorway relative to facing from the back of the guest quarters as the automatic sliding doors opened, and extended is right hand outward to usher her out in a gentlemanly manner. They both waltzed out of the guest quarters and the sliding doors closed behind him.

A few moments later, Nan and William started quarreling about their checkers game.

"William! How could you? You're cheating?"

"I am not!"

"Yes you are!"

"Am not!"

"Are!"

Am NOT!"

"Are! Let me show you!"

"I'm not listening to you, Nan!" William plugged his fingers to his ears and hummed a random tune loudly to himself. Nan knelt completely on the floor with her hands to her legs and showed a cross face.

"I'm your older sister, William!" retorted Nan.

"Well, just because you're my older sister doesn't mean you can boss me around every time you want! I'm tired of having the older girls telling me what to do all the time!" William declared rather resentfully.

"'Tis for your own good, William," said Nan in a sing-song tone of voice.

"Humph!" snorted William, sitting on the floor with his legs bent, crossing his arms. As he extended his legs he inadvertently kicked the checkerboard with the pieces scattered across. The pieces were scattered and disorganized. But at this point William didn't care one bit what he did.

"William! Your manners!" exclaimed a shocked Nan.

"I don't care!" he exclaimed rather resentfully, still keeping both his ears plugged with his index fingers.

Meanwhile Felicity was fumbling with the replicator when she was asking the machine to generate tea, since it was quite a while since she ever had any, especially during the time when tea was boycotted by the colonies back in her day. Ever since she was practicing an abstinence on tea that she thought would last forever, during the [Revolutionary] War, and perhaps after, and she longed to take a hearty swig of it. To her dismay and frustration the replicator machine didn't seem to be cooperating with her, as it kept droning on its usual "SPECIFY PARAMETERS" pickup line whenever the computer's brain couldn't comply to a given request without any specifications.

"What on earth do you mean?" asked Felicity hotly, who was nearly at her wits' end with the machine. She was hungry and thirsty, and did not seem to have time for games with that thing.

"SPECIFY BRAND."

"Well! That's just maddeningly unhelpful, as I do not seem to understand what the machine is talking about, much less the "brand" of the tea I'm used to!" declared Felicity in a temper as red as her hair. "Stupid contraption."

Felicity still heard her siblings' petty quarrels over the checkerboard game. She regained her poise and stepped into the scene. "What's with you two, pray?" she asked rather anxiously and exasperatingly. To the little mites their older sister sounded almost like Mrs. Merriman. For an 11-year-old girl she was beginning to sound quite grown-up.

"William's not cooperating," said Nan.

"I know that," cut Felicity in a tart manner, beginning to feel irritated about their arguments. "What is it really?"

"Nan thinks I cheated on the checkers game," said William.

"Which you did," replied Nan crossly, facing William squarely.

"Did not!"

"Did! Look, see? You took an extra jump on that square, which you weren't supposed to do!"

Felicity decided she had better end that argument or else Nan and Wiliam would keep doing this forever. "All right, enough of this! Both of you!" she exclaimed. "You are acting like uncivilized brats! Nan, you keep admonishing me about being a proper young lady; I expected better from you! Now both of you will get a grip, or so help me, I will personally confine you to the closet!"

However a disturbing realization came to Felicity as the thought occurred to her. The closet was where the safe containing the Playboy magazine was, and if she confined her siblings to that area, she would risk having them eventually discovering it for themselves. But she couldn't care about it at this point; her hunger, as well as her anxious waiting for Ben and Elizabeth occupied her mind.

Nan decided to break the seemingly morbid silence. "You know I wish Elizabeth were here," she declared rather wistfully. "Most of the time you keep neglecting us. You seem to be spending more time with Ben."

Felicity seemed to feel touched by what Nan said, but she shook it off, deciding to test her because she was rather tired of Nan's admonitions on a lady's proprieties, which perhaps seemed to be the reason why she kept avoiding her.

"But you don't seem to like me that much Nan," replied Felicity. "You keep telling me that a proper young lady is not supposed to do this or that. 'Tis most tiresome for me to listen to you all the time."

"Perhaps, Lissie," replied Nan. "But I don't just like you. I love you too much to allow you to disgrace yourself in front of others."

"I'm a most difficult person to you Nan, as you are to me."

This time Nan's feelings were somewhat hurt. Slowly she turned away and sauntered back to the checkerboard with the pieces scattered in a disheveled heap. Felicity couldn't afford to keep this up. She, along with her siblings and friends, were in the unknown and the unfamiliar, and as the eldest sister she had to keep them both together, as well as her friends.

Felicity approached Nan, who was at this point arranging the checkerboard in a dainty manner. "Nan," she called.

Her younger sister looked up, with a dejected look on her face.

"Would it be all right if I played checkers with you?"

Somehow something made Nan reconciled to her older sister, as seemingly evident by the half-smile she slowly formed on her face. "Suit yourself, Lissie."

Felicity sat down at the other side of the checkerboard facing Nan. William stepped in.

"Hey, what about me, too?"

"You'll get your turn," replied Felicity.

William sighed as he got up, ran to the king-sized bed, and started jumping on it, even with his shoes on. Felicity could hear the fairly audible thumping sounds that William was making. She turned abruptly to him.

"No jumping on the bed, William!" snapped Felicity.

Sighing again, William jumped off the bed and paced around the room in his own hyperactive manner.

* * *

Ben and Elizabeth were taking a stroll on their usual route to Ten-Forward in one of the _Enterprise_'s saucer section corridors. Their conversation ranged from a little discussion of politics to Felicity herself.

"…And after you've started looking at that article showing those little gewgaws and other whatnots that fascinate you immensely as a boy, I'll bet you're going to start using them against the King's men," sighed Elizabeth.

"All the King's horses and all the King's men," put in Ben, in a correcting manner.

"That's typical of a Patriot," said Elizabeth, attempting to keep her composure. Since Elizabeth was a little more calmer than Felicity, she could absorb the flak of Ben's comments about the war and King George III. "Indeed you must realize that England is the parent country. His Majesty is considered to be the most benevolent ruler of the Colonies."

"That's from your point of view, Lizzie," replied Ben forcefully.

"It's _Miss_ Cole," corrected Elizabeth, feeling a little irritated by Ben's disrespectful tone of voice.

"You're a Loyalist!" exclaimed Ben rather indignantly. "Why should I show respect to a…person…who holds allegiance to a ruler that constantly treads on our God-given rights? You heard what Thomas Paine said about him…the King thinks he's so damn near important that dares to think himself fit to rule us in an arbitrary manner we cannot stand!"

"Don't swear, Ben. 'Tis very unbecoming for a gentleman like you." Ben exhaled in a manner that showed slight resentment at the idea of the girls being criticized on what he did.

"Besides, have you ever even read it?" asked Elizabeth.

"Nay, but if I go back I intend to get a copy of that pamphlet as soon as I can."

"Hmm," replied Elizabeth calmly. "Speaking of the King, I suspect that in this time the His Majesty is long dead, so you can stop making your incessant tirades about him."

"All right," said Ben briskly. "I'll stop my tirades." Then he grinned mischievously. "But as a Patriot I get to tar and feather you, for fun."

Elizabeth looked at him with a wide-opened mouth, hand near her heart. "Benjamin Davidson! You wouldn't dare!" she exclaimed indignantly.

"Yes I can," replied Ben impishly.

Elizabeth's face carried a half-smile as she shook her head. "You know Lissie won't like that. She'll stop you any way she can."

"That determined little girl…" sighed Ben. "But the way I see it there's little incentive to tar and feather helpless young ladies when there's much more exciting things to do on board this ship."

"Finally. You've come to your senses," declared Elizabeth. "And now I think 'tis time to discuss a suitable topic other than the King, or about tar and feathering Loyalists," said Elizabeth. "And you can show a little more respect to me, even if I'm a Loyalist. Lissie would not like it if you were to behave in my presence in an ungentlemanly fashion."

"Riiight," replied Ben in a rather casual manner. He transitioned his tone of voice to a genial one. "What shall we talk about then, _Elizabeth_?"

Elizabeth clasped her hands in a ladylike fashion. "Let's talk about Lissie. The part where she and you were in that Ten-Forward room."

"Oh, please…" protested Ben.

Elizabeth flashed a smile at Ben as she turned her face to him. "I can keep secrets, Benjamin Davidson," she said sweetly. "You won't have to worry."

"I suppose not…though 'twould be wrong for you to pry the most intimate secrets from me without Lissie's consent."

"I dare say you're right," replied Elizabeth. "I'll instead scratch the surface, rather than dig deep into the innermost levels of the heart."

"That's awfully considerate of you, _Miss_ Cole."

"Finally. You're beginning to show proper respect to a proper young lady," said Elizabeth, breathing a sigh of relief. "Even if she's on a different political side." Then she cleared her throat to continue speaking. "So what did you and Lissie do while I was with Nan and William in the guest quarters?"

"Well, I went to where Lissie told us she would be; in Ten-Forward. I found her staring at the stars by the time I arrived there."

"Then what else?"

"We reminisced about the things we sorely missed back in Williamsburg. Actually, 'twas Lissie who did most of the reminiscing, It got to the point that she actually cried over my shoulder."

"I'm beginning to feel touched," said Elizabeth gently. "I seem miss my family back in Williamsburg."

Ben chuckled slightly to himself. "Your older sister included?"

Elizabeth was hesitant a little. Though her older sister was often overbearing on her, she did love her. So she nodded without a single word.

The two finally came to the entrance of Ten-Forward. The automatic glass doors with the Starfleet insignia opened and they stepped in. Ten-Forward was half-dark, with the fluorescent lights penetrating the dimness. The entire room seemed to provide a very homely surrounding.

Ben pointed to the area where he and Felicity were spending the evening together. "That's where Lissie and I were."

Elizabeth observed carefully. "Hmm. How very nice. The place does seem to provide a very romantic setting."

"Which it did," added Ben.

Suddenly he heard a baritone voice calling from the right side of the room. "Yo, Davy-boy!"

Ben turned his head to the direction where the voice came. It was Commander Riker. He was seated at a square table near the other end of the Ten-Forward lounge, with a dark blue mug in his hand. He was drinking syntholic beverage.

"Pardon me, sir, but the name is Davidson," Ben called back.

Commander Riker chuckled to himself as he waved his right hand down in a gesture that indicated "never mind". Ben and Elizabeth sauntered to the counter to place their breakfast order. The black barmaid was fumbling with the replicator machine while the barman was mulling over things and tapping his electronic stick on his PADD. He slowly turned his head to the left, only to be astonished by Elizabeth's nail-striking beauty.

"Well, lookit whut we have heer," greeted the bartender in his usual drawling Southern accent. "'Sthat your Tory girlfriend, I imagin?"

"Aye, sir," replied Ben. "May I have the honor of present to you Miss Elizabeth Cole," he said in a gentlemanly fashion.

The bartender could not help staring at her. "I'll be gawddamn," he declared to himself. "She she sure dus look Tory-like ta me," declared the bartender.

"Pray, good sir, how you came to guess the political side I was in when I was in the Colonies," requested Elizabeth.

"So ya did do some time-travelin' huh?" replied the barman. "Well, I thawt you wuz a Tory…or is it Loyalist…based on the way you kinda acted. From the looks of it ya seem ta be damn well cultured wit the ways uv the arristawkrasy."

"Aye, 'tis true," put in Ben. "In the Colonies, she's a Loyalist, and I'm a Patriot."

"You Patriot?" inquired the barman, taken aback. "Gawd awn high, what the hell's a respectable Patriot like you doin' with a girl like her who's awn a diffrent saiyd frum yers? I sorely expected ya to be…what is it ye colonists do…'tarrin' an' featherin' her luscious bawdy."

Elizabeth recoiled in slight shock, as she had never heard any remark so ungentlemanly before, but of course the barman was not much of gentleman. But as she regained her composure, she eventually came to the realization that the barman was not really that unkind as she thought. But still…

"You are no gentleman to say such lewd things to me," remarked Elizabeth in a calm manner.

"Well, who awn Gawd's green Urth gives a mighty damn?" retorted the barman.

Ben sighed. "Um, Elizabeth, can we get over this?" Elizabeth nodded in assent, although she did expect Ben to come to the defense of her honor. But that seemed to matter very little at the moment, since Ben was in the business of ordering breakfast for the children, as well as for himself.

"Right," began Ben. "So, um,…" He noticed the barmaid fumbling in frustration with the replicator machine. "If anything seems to be working, I would like…"

Ben was suddenly interrupted by the barmaid's rants. Clearly there was something wrong, as far he could perceive it.

"Marles?" called the barmaid.

The barman turned his head to the left. "What, honey?"

"This gawdforsaken piece of gawd-awful crap looks to be dead. Dead…as a doornail."

"Gawd damn!" He sauntered over to where the barmaid was. "Phyllis! Are ya tellin' me this is the third time that the stupid contraption don't werk no more?"

"That's the truth of it, Marles," replied barmaid in her mild Southern accent as she sighed in exasperation.

The barman sighed frustratingly. "Oh, crap," he muttered to himself as he sauntered rather lazily to the replicator system. Both Ben and Elizabeth observed.

"How awfully rude," commented Elizabeth.

Ben simply shrugged. "Well, the future isn't that perfect the way most people perceive it to be."

"Well, I dearly hope that you don't act that way in front of Lissie and her younger brother and sister," said Elizabeth.

"Hmm…" replied Ben rather skeptically, his voice trailing off.

The barman muttered to himself again as he approached the duo. "Astrometrics guys again. They're always draining the power off other people's everyday appliances." He approached the duo. "Sorry, folks. The replicator's down. "Yer jest gonna hafta wait fer whut may seem ta be an inordinately loooong moment," he declared as he stared profusely at Elizabeth.

"Are you implying an hour?" inquired Ben.

"'Fraid so," replied the barman, shrugging his shoulders involuntarily.

Ben faced Elizabeth, flabbergasted. "An hour? The tour's going to start by the time we're finished!" he whispered.

Elizabeth regained her composure. "Just calm down Ben," she said sweetly. "If this is, as you say, the future, it shouldn't take them long to fix whatever is the problem."

Elizabeth was sort of right. In a few seconds the replicator lights turned back on, a visual indication that the system in Ten-Forward was online.

The barman turned his gaze back on Ben and Elizabeth. "You're in luck now, folksies. The system's online, thank goodness, so you can start placing your breakfast order."

"What's on the menu?" asked Ben skeptically.

"Well…" The barman tapped and scratched his head profusely with his left hand index finger with his head leaning on his left hand. "You can pretty much order whatever food or drink you want in here, whether be breakfast, lunch, or dinner; or supper, if you so choose to call it that. Ain't no limits awn whutevah you cain order, that is, regardin' food. So…what'll it be this time, bucko?"

Ben put his right finger near his mouth and gave a rather quizzical face. "Hmm…Let me think…" he said slowly in a suspicious manner, as he scratched his head quizzically.

* * *

Sorry I was delayed with this chapter. I was busy trying to finish my 12th grade homework. The next chapter will continue Ben's business of ordering breakfast for the children, as well as for himself. The tour de force of the _U.S.S. Enterprise_ will continue two chapters from this one.


	14. Chapter 14

_**Star Trek: The Next Generation – Souvenirs**_

**Written By:**_** Commander Cody CC-2224**_

CHAPTER 14

Ben's thoughts came back to his head.

"Ah…I'm placing an order for scrambled eggs for five people…"

"How 'bout th'wun wit milted cheddar cheese awn tawp? P'rhaps you folks would like ta traiy that."

Ben thought about that for a brief moment. "All right. We'll try exactly that. Include some sausages as well."

"Whut kaiynd?"

Ben looked rather confused. He turned to Elizabeth.

"Try the English beef sausage," she said. "That's what we used to have when I was in England, and we still had that in the Colonies."

The barman looked up abruptly. "I jest gawddamn knew it!" he exclaimed drawlingly. "You an English lassie? Where sp'cifically did you cum frum?"

"London," replied Elizabeth in a rather curt manner.

"I'll be gawddamned," replied the barman, shaking his head out of habit. "English beef sawsage is what ya want, am I right, lassie?"

"Aye," replied Elizabeth, with a ladylike nod. "'That's the one."

"How many?"

Ben turned to Elizabeth again. "What do you suggest?" he whispered. Do I get 5? Maybe 10?

"Make it 11."

With a nod, "All right. But I think I'll make it 12, as I myself would want one more extra." Ben turned back to the barman. "12 pieces to go," he said in a rather final manner.

"Raiyght-o." The barman listed those initial orders on his PADD.

"Another thing," Ben added. "I'd like a junk of fresh corn beef and a…hang on, what other bakery-related merchandise are there?"

"Bakery-related stuff, ain't't?" asked the barman. "Well, lemme see…there's…all sorts o' rolls; Continental rolls, Danish rolls, German rolls, quiche, and…let's see..all sorts o' bread loves; whole wheet, pumpernickel, Jew'sh rye, rye an' injun…hmm…"

Ben seemed to have difficult keeping up with the plethora of bakery goods listed by the barman. But something the barman mentioned caught his attention.

"…And thaiyre's also a doughnut-shaped thingy cawlled a bagel and a lovely French pastry thingy called a 'croy-sant."

Suddenly Ben woke up. "Croy-what?" he inquired, confused.

"Croy-sant."

"How do you spell it?"

"Hang on a mo'." The barman bent over to the counter cabinet on the front area of the counter and pulled out a large laminated poster featuring a mouth-watering, hi-resolution image of a croissant. The name of the pastry was under the image, spelled in block capital letters, which Ben tried to make out. The block caps spelled out the word "CROISSANT".

"Sounds French," he remarked. "So that's what it looks like?"

"What ya see is what ya get," said the barman.

"I'll try that one as well," replied Ben, pointing his right index finger at the picture.

The barman looked inquisitively at him. "Hmm…you an Uhmerican kawlonist?"

"Aye, sir."

"I certainly dun't recall these things bein' sold in yer taiyme."

"'Tis true. That's why I said I wanted to try it."

"I jest hope I ain't violatin' the Temporal Praiyme Directive when I'm doin' this. Oh, well, orders is orders." He took out his electronic stick and listed the breakfast order on the PADD.

"Include the 'bagel' as well," ordered Ben.

"Whut kaiynd?"

"What do you mean, sir?"

"Well, we seem ta have all types of brands. Thayre's plain baygel, the one with blueberries, one with raisins, one with chocolate chips, one with squashed cherries, ya names it."

"I'll try the plain," said Ben in a rather cautious manner. "Would it be also possible to have it with a cheese topping?"

"Yup. Cain be dun. Anythin' else?"

"That's pretty much it. Unless…" Ben turned to Elizabeth. "Is there anything else you want, Lizzie-girl?" he asked her.

"Aye," said Elizabeth sweetly. "Five biscuits and five lemon cakes to go."

"Biscuits? Cain be dun. As for 'em lemun cakes, yer gonna hafta be a li'l more sp'cific th'n that. If yer referrin' to regular burthday-saiyzed caikes…"

"Nay, just the small ones. Like the muffins."

"Raiyght-o, Missy." The barman hastily listed the breakfast order on his PADD. Then he handed it to the barmaid, who set to work on processing the order. Then he waltzed back to where Elizabeth and Ben where.

"An' now, if you'll jest sit back and wait fur a moment, yer breakfast order'll get processed in no time't all."

"Thank you," replied Ben.

"Many thanks," beamed Elizabeth.

"No problemo," replied the barman mockingly. He was about to turn away when Ben interrupted him.

"Sir," he called.

The barman faced him again. "Davy-boy."

"'Tis Mr. Davidson, sir," Ben corrected.

"Awll raiyght, whaddaya want, _Mr. Davidson_?" asked the barman emphatically.

"I'm rather curious as to how these replicators, or whatever you call them, work.."

"Werk? Ya mean the basic inner workings on 'em contrapshuns?"

"Aye."

"Well," began the barman, as he leaned on the counter, tapping his fingers. "Basic'lly the replicator masheen generates muhterial entitees baiy utilizin' ah principle that has sumthin' ta do wit convertin' energy inta matter."

Ben found himself confused by the idea. So did Elizabeth.

"Kuhlonial simpletuns," he muttered rudely to himself. "Sorry, folks. Ain't no way I can explain this process no further. You maight cunsider askin' wun uf 'em engineers; they know more 'bout that stuff than aiy do."

"And besides, even if we did, you still wouldn't understand jack about the entire process," came a male baritone voice from the left side of the bar.

Startled, Ben and Elizabeth turned around. To his great dismay and astonishment it was Commander Riker.

"M-Mr. Riker?" stuttered Ben.

"Mr. Davidson," greeted Riker. "A pleasure to meet you again, _sir_." Riker extended his hand as a gesture of friendship. Ben felt obliged to return the favor, and the two shook hands with each other.

Then Riker turned to Elizabeth. "And to whom do I owe the honor of meeting the lovely Miss Cole?" he said, as Elizabeth extended her right hand in a manner that invited every gentleman to kiss it. Riker took her hand and kissed it gently.

"The honor is mine," replied Elizabeth gracefully, in a coy manner, as she daintily put her arm down.

"So…" began Riker bluntly, forcing a friendly smile on his face. "What's up with you two?"

Ben shrugged his shoulders. "Um, aside from the fact that we managed to get a heavenly good night's sleep, I'd say we're doing just fine." Elizabeth chuckled lightly to herself, her right hand covering her mouth in order to muffle herself.

Ben turned to Elizabeth. "W-What's so funny?" he asked, trying to be polite as best he could.

Elizabeth faced him and removed her hand. "It's your slight witticism, Ben," she replied.

Riker decided to break the moment. "Do you happen to be ladies' man, Mr. Davidson?" he inquired.

"Well…" replied Ben rather hesitantly. "Not exactly. I'm rather shy when it comes to being around most girls, but when it comes to Miss Felicity Merriman and Miss Elizabeth Cole…" He broke off.

"Then he has no trouble beating around the bush," finished Elizabeth sweetly.

"Precisely," added Ben.

"Ispeschally whin it cums to kissin' em?" inquired the barman in a blunt manner.

Riker guffawed quite audibly, as if he could hardly believe his ears. "Kissed? You kissed a girl?"

"'An' made her craiy?" added the barman. Riker chuckled again.

Ben was getting rather suspicious. "Pray, what makes you think I did that?"

"Well, the dark-skinned barmaid workin' her late naiyght shift tol' me all 'bout the affair," replied the barman. "Said you was havin' a good smooch with a young lady who was clad in a red cloak nearly as red as her haiyr and as red as Li'l Red Ridin' Hood's and the faiyres uh hell an' a fancy cream-colored dress as yellow-gold'n as one of 'em gold plates that ya finds in most of em motherboards…"

Ben was very much taken aback. The barman was referring to Felicity! And that fact was compounded further when Elizabeth started making inquiries about the affair.

"…An' frum the looks uv it her hair wuz as red as the faiyres uh hell and damnation."

The moment the barman mentioned his intro Elizabeth gasped in shock, her hand over her heart. "You…you kissed Lissie?" she squeaked.

"Who's Lissie?" inquired Riker.

"She's Miss Felicity Merriman," replied Ben.

"Miss Merriman? That red-haired green-eyed beauty that I initially saw at the Main Sickbay yesterday?"

Elizabeth nodded.

Riker laughed again. "I'll be damned. You…literally _kissed_ her? By the looks of it she's too young to be kissed."

"Well…" Ben began hesitantly. "She did ask me to kiss her."

Riker widened his eyes. Elizabeth couldn't help but feel curious about the whole affair.

"I can hardly believe my ears," Elizabeth continued, feeling rather elated. "You…you really kissed her?"

Ben just simply gave Elizabeth a mischievous smirk. Elizabeth could not help her astonishment. Then she swooned, falling to the floor in an unladylike fashion in a heap of blue silk. The barman guffawed quite loudly. "Bwa-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha…!" For him the show was crudely hilarious.

While chuckling genially to himself Riker gave a helping hand to Elizabeth, who managed to lift herself back on her own two feet. Ben assisted, too.

"To tell you the truth, I've never seen a little girl go into a fit of swooning," remarked Riker.

"Neither did I," put in Ben.

After a few seconds the moment was interrupted when an impersonal male voice came over the PA. It was Lt. Commander Data.

"Senior officers, please report to the bridge."

Riker exhaled. "Gotta go. It was nice meeting you, swoon and all. I look forward to seeing both of you and the rest of the kids again."

Then all of a sudden Riker spotted a handsome 14-year-old teenage boy in handsome brown hair. He seemed to be staring at Elizabeth. Riker turned to her.

"Oh, just as an aside," he began, as he pointed his right hand index finger at the lad. "That handsome-looking fellow over there thinks _you_…" He pointed his finger at Elizabeth. "…Are _hot_." He smiled his most mischievous smile.

Elizabeth was slightly dazed that the very term. Without another word Riker strode out of Ten-Forward using the port-side entrance.

Though Ben felt pretty much embarrassed at the mention of his mild affair with Felicity, he decided to summon up his manly courage and act casual about it. So he heaved a sigh, as if he was exasperated about the incessant mentions of that affair.

"Hot?" exclaimed Elizabeth in a rather inquisitive manner that hinted astonishment.

"…As in '_immensely attractive'_," replied the barman. "Yeah, thait's raiyght. Blue-eyed blondes are quaiyte an immense eyesore fur 'em handsome lads."

Ben chuckled to himself. "Riiight," he concurred.

Elizabeth decided to break Ben's laughing mood with the discussion of the Ten-Forward affair. "So what was the kiss like?" asked Elizabeth, grinning impishly.

"C-Can we discuss this later, Elizabeth?" asked Ben, feeling kind of vexed about talking about his spending time with Felicity in the Ten-Forward lounge. "I'm getting hungry, and only the Lord knows when our breakfast order is processed." He leaned over the counter.

Elizabeth couldn't help talking about Ben and Felicity. "Oh, but I simply must mention this to Lissie!" she squealed, feeling quite thrilled about the affair. Ben shut his eyes and kept them shut while Elizabeth was asking a series of questions about the barman and barmaid's identity.

"I heard your name was Marles," said Elizabeth sweetly.

"Yeah, that's maiy last naiyme. Maiy ferst naiyme's Jeb."

"Jeb?" inquired Elizabeth.

"That's raiyght."

"What about the lady that works with you? Is her name Phyllis?"

The barman narrowed his eyes. "Yer quite an observant chit, young 'un."

"That's an impertinent word you could ever use on a proper young lady," Elizabeth chided the barman, in a manner gentle yet firm.

"Whatevah. Who the hell caires?" replied the barman, shaking off his hand. Elizabeth gave a demurely serious look. "Yeah, her naime's Phyllis Kennedie; that's th'wun wit' an 'eye-ee' 'nstead uv th'wun wit' a 'whaiy', an' she's ah hell uv a fine black lassie," continued the barman. "Shee cawlls me baiy maiy last naiyme and I cawlls her baiy her ferst naiyme. Weerd, huh?"

Elizabeth was wide-eyed. The barmaid made the curtain calls, indicating that the breakfast order was done. The barman woke up Ben rather rudely.

"Hey, boy, yer breakfast order's done, man," he said briskly, pointing to his right side.

With a nod of assent Ben and Elizabeth moseyed to the left side of the bar counter to take the two shiny, lightweight aluminum breakfast trays. The sight was mouth-watering. On one Five plates with thoroughly cooked scrambled eggs with the cheddar cheese topping and the beef sausages were nearly enough to make the two children drool. Especially mouth-watering to Ben was the cheese-topped plain bagels and the freshly cooked corn beef, the amount being the size of a teacup filling, situated on a separate ceramic plate, on the other tray. Elizabeth couldn't wait to try the biscuits and the small muffin-sized lemon cakes on another separate plate.

"I do declare, I have never seen or smelled anything so delicious in my entire life," remarked Elizabeth calmly.

"Yeah, you can thank the good ol' replicator," put in the barmaid. "'Cause that what makes so goodly a meal so damn near possible. Would you be wantin' some napkins, kiddos?"

"Please," replied Ben, in a requesting tone of voice.

"Five of them," put in Elizabeth.

"Yeah, yeah, the usual fiver," muttered the barmaid. She bent over, opened a cabinet near where she was and pulled out five of the same large linen cloth napkins that the gave them when the children were having dinner at Ten-Forward.

"Wow," remarked Ben. "Many thanks, madam."

"Don't mention it," replied the barmaid wryly.

"Riiight," remarked Ben in a rather casual manner. "Come on, Elizabeth. Help me with the trays, and I'll act gentlemanly toward you, even if you're a Loyalist," he said sarcastically.

With a light genial chuckle, Elizabeth toted the other tray in a ladylike fashion.

* * *

Meanwhile, in the Guest Quarters…

Felicity and Nan were busying themselves with the checkers game, while William was busying himself to rolling the shampoo bottle around the flat carpet clearings of the guest quarters. Nearly a few moments later William accidentally rolled the bottle across the checkerboard, scattering the well-positioned checker pieces, much to the dismay and annoyance of the girls.

"William!" cried Felicity and Nan together.

William simply shrugged and slowly grinned a mischievous grin.

"Oh, that does it, Will!" complained Felicity. "I shall never play checkers with you next time!"

"Ohhh," sulked William. "Pretty please?"

"Absolutely not," replied Felicity crossly.

"But you said…" William piped up before Felicity interrupted him.

"I would play checkers with you if you didn't screw things up," retorted Felicity hotly in exasperation. "But you can't seem to keep still one bit! You're always running around the place, driving us bonkers!"

"I'm a boy, not a girl!" protested William. "You ladies have no problems sitting still, but I do! Why do you always have to be so mean to me?"

Felicity hung her head. William exhaled in a cross manner.

"Besides," continued William, "Mother always keeps saying that you're flighty and headstrong, and have difficulty sitting still yourself!"

"'Tis true," put in Nan solemnly, looking up at her older sister. "If you have difficulty sitting still yourself, how much more for you to criticize your younger brother about that?"

Felicity was about to retort, but couldn't find the words. Her face reddened.

"Now look who's blushing," teased William, slowly forming a playful grin. Nan started to feel rather amused.

"I think you youngsters have made me feel quite embarrassed for one morning," declared Felicity as she stooped to pick up the shampoo bottle left from William's wreckage of the nicely positioned checkers game board. "Nan, can you put away the checker pieces back in the bag?"

With a tiny nod Nan slowly gathered the checker pieces and dumped them into the small white bag. Then she took the bag and the checkerboard and placed them on top of the desk. Felicity moseyed to the bathroom to put away the shampoo bottle and back to the living area, just in time before the door chime sounded.

EE-EEP!

"Come," replied the three children. Then they looked at each other rather confusedly, wondering who interrupted who.

The automatic sliding doors opened, and in entered Ben and Elizabeth, toting the breakfast trays. Felicity's eyes dilated as she beheld the mouth-watering sight of the food.

"Mmmm, that smells _soooo_ good," crooned Felicity, closing her eyes and relishing the alluring scent.

"So, how was your housekeeping, Lissie?" asked Ben sarcastically, placing the tray he was holding on the trundle bed, and pointing to Elizabeth to place the other, which she did with ladylike grace.

"It's…getting better," replied Felicity, grinning impishly to herself as she remembered how Mrs. Merriman told her about growing up to be a notable housewife.

"No doubt," replied Ben in quiet laughter. He took some his plate with the cheese-topped bagel, and the scrambled eggs and beef sausage and started shoving a few pieces down his mouth. The rest of the children hadn't even started, though each had their breakfast plates. Felicity and Elizabeth were near their right side of the king-sized bed, with Elizabeth being on the far right and Felicity being on Elizabeth's left. Both Nan and William were near Felicity, with Nan being nearest her, and William on Nan's left side.

"Wait," cried Nan. "Shouldn't we say grace first?"

Ben was exasperated. "Nanster," he replied, with his mouth nearly half-full. "I'm as hungry as a Continental soldier who's gone without several days worth of food can ever be. You want to say grace, you can do it yourself, or perhaps ask one of the older girls to do it."

Nan gave Ben a rather disapproving look.

"Besides," continued Ben. "I'm no good at saying it. You heard me yesterday. I couldn't even find the right words!"

Felicity, as she was starting on her breakfast meal, just simply shook her head, her cheeks puffed while blowing air. Elizabeth faced Ben.

"Well, if you tried, and put your heart and soul into it, you can do it," she assured. "I was able to do it," she declared, and nearly muttered to herself, "Even if I was a girl." Then she raised her tone of voice. "So why can't you?"

"Because…well," replied Ben hesitantly. "I'm a boy. You girls can talk more, given that you and Lissie constantly chatter with each other like magpies. Besides, you make the prayer sound so damn nice."

"Stop swearing, Ben. It's very unbecoming for a gentleman like you." Elizabeth lowered her voice slightly. "I hope you don't talk like the poor lad at the bar."

"I thought 'tis Annabelle who usually makes remarks like that," remarked Felicity, as she chewed slowly on a small slice of sausage. "'Tis rather unusual for you to say such things about people."

Elizabeth simply heaved a ladylike sigh. Ben abruptly put his plate down on his right side on the trundle bed. He felt kind of resentful about being told by the girls what to do.

"All right. We'll say your stupid grace if that's what you proper young ladies want so damn badly."

"Ben!" gasped Felicity, Elizabeth, and Nan together. William was a little dazed by that statement, but was keen enough to ignore it.

Elizabeth hung her head. "I-I'm sorry," she said quietly in a rather meek manner. Felicity looked at her. "I-I told Ben not to keep this up, after listening to the way the barman talks, but…well…I hope you won't be angry with me." She felt a little nervous.

"There's no reason to get angry with you, Elizabeth," assured Felicity. "You've done your best. Now 'tis time to do mine."

This time Felicity regained her dignity and gave Ben a hard and cold look. "Ben, one more word like that out of your mouth, and I'll personally stuff it with a bar of soap!" she declared hotly. "You're making such a bad example to Nan and William."

Ben shrugged his shoulders and pointed a wagging finger of his right hand at Felicity. "You sound just like my mother," he remarked, as calmly as he could. "You do that," he continued, trying to keep his temper in check, "And I'll do the very same thing to your Loyalist friend. 'Tis bad enough that I have to put up with her lectures regarding the King and the Colonies on our way to Ten-Forward. All this talk about how the King is a benevolent ruler when he actually tramples on our rights like grasshoppers and so forth…"

"Ben," pleaded Elizabeth. "We're friends, even if we're on different sides, just like Lissie and me. I pray you, do not let politics divide us even further."

"Fine, Fine," replied Ben resentfully. He picked up his plate and shoved a handful of scrambled eggs into his mouth.

"Aren't we going to say grace?" asked Nan innocently.

With a snorting sigh Ben set his plate aside again. "Uh! Oh, very well!" he said crossly. He crossed his hands.

"Lord, we thank you for this heavenly food, which was generated by the goodly replicator machine," began Ben in a slightly rapid and irreverent manner. "And we also thank you that the colonists won their independence from England, and that we colonists don't have to live under British rule by the likes of whimsical people like King George the Third. And we also thank you that everything around here is free of charge…or so we think. Amen."

"Amen," the rest of children recited together.

Ben took his plate back and resumed eating. "I hope I did pretty well," he said, mostly to himself, as he helped himself to a biscuit on the secondary tray.

"For a start," commented Felicity, forcing an assuring smile. "Can you please pass me three of those biscuits on the trundle bed?"

Ben snatched one of the biscuits. "Catch," he said, as he was about to toss it to Felicity, thinking that she would indeed catch it in midair. Felicity just simply snorted disapprovingly, which made Ben hand her the biscuits properly on a folded napkin.

"Thank you," said Felicity. "That's much better."

"No problemo," replied Ben, imitating the drawling barman. Felicity handed one to Elizabeth, and the two others to Nan and William. Nan turned to face Ben while seated on the bed. "Where did you learn to speak like that?"

"The barman," replied Elizabeth. "He picks up things wherever we go."

"Though I dare say, you'd best keep such things like that to yourself if we ever go back, or you'll start attracting unnecessary attention to yourself," declared Felicity. She sighed wistfully. "…If we ever go back…"

Felicity's daydreaming moment was interrupted when Ben started speaking up.

"Will you be wanting a lemon cake for yourself, Elizabeth?"

"Yes, please."

"Might as well. I think I'll help myself to a little bit of that, too," replied Ben, as he snatched two of the lemon cakes while munching on his biscuit. He handed one of them to Elizabeth.

Elizabeth gave a thoughtful glance at the cakes. _I think these will taste good with a bit of tea_, she thought to herself. She set aside her plate and sauntered to the replicator.

"Why are you going to that replicator machine?" inquired Felicity, looking up from her plate.

"For tea, of course," replied Elizabeth as sweetly as she could.

"I've tried it before, and much good it did," Felicity declared in a rather sarcastic manner. "When I asked the replicator for tea, all it said was "Specify Parameters". 'Twas so frustrating that I've completely given up on that stupid contraption…"

"Whoa. Wait a minute, Lissie" interrupted Ben. You asked…the replicator…for _tea_?"

Felicity became cross, as she was kind of expecting some piece of helpful advice from Ben on how to handle the replicator, and all she got was a criticism for asking the machine for tea, even though she was on the Patriot side. After the Boston Tea Party, the Patriots boycotted all tea made from England.

She flounced at him. "All right," she declared hotly. "I know that I'm a Patriot, but what's wrong with a Patriot girl like me asking for a bit of tea, especially since we're in a completely different time, when all that stuff about Patriots and Loyalists don't matter anymore?"

Ben couldn't help laughing about the syllabic alliteration that Felicity made in her statement. "Well…Patriots don't drink tea anymore, especially English tea. We boycotted all tea since the Boston Tea Party…"

Ignoring Ben, Felicity inquired her friend about the replicator. "Did it work?" she asked.

"Aye. I managed to get quite a cupful." Elizabeth slowly turned around; her hand was daintily carrying a bleached white teacup filled nearly to the brim with a simmering brownish liquid.

"What kind of tea is it?" asked Felicity, curious.

"'Tis Earl Gray."

"Earl Gray?" she piped. She set her plate down. "I'm getting some."

"Lissie, you're a Patriot! How could you?"

"Oh, _hush_, Ben!" snapped Felicity in a tart manner. "Can't a Patriot girl break the fast on tea a little bit? There's no other Patriot in our vicinity to snap at me if I start drinking tea," she added, as she worked with Elizabeth on the replicator system. "Except you, of course."

"Then you're quite lucky that's the case," continued Ben, slowly resuming his calm demeanor. "Might as well get me some, too, if you please."

"There goes our hotheaded Patriot lad," chirped Felicity. She turned back to Elizabeth. "Another cupful for Ben, Elizabeth."

Elizabeth gasped. "Lissie, are you sure?" she said in a whisper. "You know Ben is particularly adamant about not drinking tea in order to support his Patriot cause."

Felicity gave a rather cursory glance at Ben, who was devouring the last of his scrambled eggs and starting on his beef sausage slices, while savoring his cheese-topped bagel half-slices. "Well, from the looks of it, not anymore," she said finally. "Come on, Elizabeth. Let's break the rules a little."

"If you say so, Lissie."

The replicator generated an extra teacup filled with the same brown liquid. Felicity took two teacups and Elizabeth took the other one. Slowly turning, they moseyed their way back to the bed in a dainty manner like Indian slave girls.

"Your tea, Mr. Davidson," Elizabeth declared formally, as she gracefully handed the steaming teacup to Ben, who took the cup as carefully as he could, given that the cup was nearly filled to the brim. Elizabeth sat back in the their usual seats on the bed as her handed one of the teacups to her. Felicitey, getting rather restless, as usual, moseyed to the trundle bed where Ben was seated, eyeing on his cheese-topped bagel.

"Would it be all right if I tried one of these bagels?" asked Felicity in a rather sheepish manner, grinning impishly.

"You're always asking for my food!" complained Ben, in a rather resentful manner.

"That's because you have the gall to ask for something unconventional to what you colonists have," replied Elizabeth, sipping her tea in a ladylike fashion.

"Hey! This is this the future!" replied Ben indignantly. "Only the Lord knows how long we're going to stay in here, and I want to enjoy every minute of it while I…or rather, we…can."

Ben resumed eating, but couldn't help but feel rather disturbed by Felicity's shadow, much less Felicity herself, hovering over him. He looked up to her in a glum manner, then reconsidered. "All right, Lissie. Here's half," he said finally, relinquishing one of the bagel slices to Felicity, who took it in a fairly gentle manner and moseyed off to her usual seat on the king-sized bed. "I hope she's happy. Mayhap 'tis always hard to refuse Miss Felicity Merriman," he said to himself.

"That could be because you always seem to allow her faerie charms to dazzle you and influence you beyond the bounds of practicality," said Elizabeth.

Ben was nearly finished with the rest of the sausage slices and was helping himself to the last two lemon cakes.

"Ben, what about Nan and William?" asked Felicity.

"Oh. Sorry."

Felicity gave Ben a rather disapproving look. Then she turned to her younger sister. "Do you want a lemon cake, Nan?"

"Yes, please!" she cried.

"How 'bout you, William?"

"Nah. I'm not that fond of them."

Ben threw one of the little cakes to the king-sized bed, and Nan managed to snatch it promptly after it landed on the covers.

"Well, what do you say, Nanster?" asked Felicity, almost in a motherly tone of voice. For an 11-year-old she could sound remarkably grown-up if she wanted to.

"Thank you, Ben," replied Nan in a rather childish manner, putting every millisecond of spacing between each of the words.

With a cursory nod, Ben took his teacup and started taking a gradual sip on the Earl Gray. The tea tasted so strange to him to the point that he involuntarily spewed it right out of his mouth, much to the disgust of the girls. There were tea stains blotting the carpet area near where Ben sat on the trundle bed.

"You call this _tea_?" complained Ben, his face contorted into a squeamish grimace. Both Felicity and Elizabeth burst into a fit of giggles. Nan covered her mouth while snickering to herself. William was rather wide-eyed at the spectacle that Ben was making.

"You act so funny, Ben," said Nan, unable to keep herself from laughing.

"Thank you," replied Ben in a sarcastic tone of voice, as he proceeded to wipe the tea drips on his face. He then got to finish the last remnants of his bagel and took the time to finish the rest of the lemon cakes.

"Whew! I'm goodly full," declared Ben in a rather satisfying manner. "Mayhap I've never been this full in my entire life."

At that moment the door chime rang. EE=EEP!

"And just in time," commented Felicity. She raised her voice in a commanding tone. "Come."

The automatic sliding doors opened and in entered the same guy in a yellow Starfleet uniform, with the slightly pudgy face and his curly yellowish-brown hair. It was Transporter Chief Miles O'Brien.

"How do you do?" chanted the girls.

Miles performed a fair sweeping bow. "How do you do, young ladies," he greeted jovially in his British accent. "And you, too, gentlemen."

"Hello," greeted Ben in a rather casual manner. O'Brien glanced at the stains on Ben's carpet area.

"That's quite a mighty fine mess you made, Mr. Davidson," he remarked.

"I've always wanted to try something like that, sir," replied Ben. "'Tis the tea stains," he added.

"Hmm. You look as though you're a regular Patriot colonist."

"That I am."

"Figures. That would, I think, explain the tea stains. I'll bet you probably don't like tea that much, after your people dumped loads of tea chests into the river." O'Brien's remark was enough to make Ben chuckle to himself. O'Brien joined in the laugh as well.

"I take it 'tis time for the tour?" inquired Felicity in her usual outgoing demeanor.

"Yes, Miss. Um, actually, it won't start, or rather, I won't start it until around after five minutes."

"Then in that case we'd better get those trays cleared," declared Ben. "You're coming with me this time, Lissie?"

"Aye," replied Felicity in a happy-go-lucky manner. Gathering up the trays and plates, with bits of food remnants, both Felicity and Ben hurried to the entranceway. "We'll be back shortly," called Felicity, as the sliding doors closed behind them.

"Figures," replied O'Brien. "I might as well just be waiting for you."

O'Brien was now alone with the rest of the children. Immediately both he and Elizabeth were engaged in small talk.

"You're from England, I take it?" inquired Elizabeth.

"We'll I'm from Ireland, actually." replied O'Brien, as courteously as he could. "From planet Earth."

Elizabeth always assumed that Ireland was on Earth, but she wasn't particularly used to hearing the latter phrase. To her it felt quite unusual. But the fact that O'Brien was from Ireland kind of astounded her, as the Irish back in her day were often snubbed and persecuted by the English since Queen Elizabeth I tried to impose her rule on them. O'Brien could probably understand that, too.

"I take it the English weren't particularly friendly with the Irish back in your day, Miss Cole," he said rather seriously, after a brief, 9-second moment of silence. "But that's the way I was born. You can't change the way you were born, can you?"

Elizabeth tried to stay calm and courteous. _If the Irishman is friendly to me, then I should be friendly to him_, she thought to herself.

"Um, please forgive me, good sir, if I have tendered any prejudices toward you," she began in a rather shy manner. "I am aware that we as English had conflicts with the Irish, and I may have been brought up to think of them as unruly…"

"Don't worry about that, Miss," assured O'Brien. "If my people and your people indeed had terrible conflicts with each other, they were resolved long ago."

"Pray, how so?" inquired Elizabeth.

"Can't tell you too much. That would go in violation with the Temporal Prime Directive."

"Well, at least know that…if I ever go back to my time…that such conflicts will be eventually resolved…"

"But in your time that won't happen until much, much later…regretfully, you won't live to see it…"

"Aye, 'tis true," replied Elizabeth, her eyes wide with a sense of both wonder and sadness.

"But in this timeline, you get to see them resolved," O'Brien assured again.

Elizabeth decided to switch to another topic. "Can you tell me anything about your life?" she asked, smiling coyly.

O'Brien cleared his throat. "Well, I was brought in into this world forty-two years ago, in the year 2328," he began in a rather rapid manner. "When I was 18 I enlisted in Starfleet Academy, passed my tests with flying colors, graduated _magna cum laude_, later served aboard two Federation starships, the _Rutledge_ and the _Phoenix_, and later got transferred to this vessel.

"Sounds like you had quite an interesting career," remarked Elizabeth. "What else will you be doing after that, if I may so inquire?"

"Well…in about a year or so I'm going to make a transfer to Deep Space Nine. It's a former Cardassian space station now under Federation control, orbiting the planet Bajor."

O'Brien observed Elizabet's face, which was filled with a sense of awe, and at the same time, a sense of longing.

"I hope you'll forgive me if my remarks sound impertinent, but you really make me wish I could do those things."

"Why, are you implying that the life you live in your time is a stifling bore?"

"Not exactly stifling, sir," Elizabeth replied bashfully. "I have to admit, I do feel a little comfortable with staying at home and doing things that a proper young lady should do…" Then her mind came to her friend. "But you should listen to my friend Lissie. If she heard you, I dare say she would be quite anxious to try these things."

The entry sliding doors gave way and in entered Felicity and Ben, acting playful and flirty.

"You could have knocked," chided Elizabeth, in a gentle but firm manner.

"Sorry, Miss Cole. We forgot," replied Ben sarcastically.

"Might I inquire as to who 'Lissie' is?" asked O'Brien quickly.

"Don't you remember, sir? She's Miss Felicity Merriman," said Elizabeth,

"That one?" he asked, pointing his right hand index finger at Felicity. She was busy chatting with Ben.

"Aye."

"Hmm…" observed O'Brien. "That's rather odd. She's acting kind of flirty for an eleven-year-old."

Felicity interrupted herself from her incessant giggling and regained her composure. "You're Mr. O'Brien," she said, in her outgoing manner. "I do declare we've met before."

"That I did, Miss Merriman, in the Main Sickbay," replied O'Brien courteously. "As did I, Mr. Davidson."

"Mr. O'Brien, isn't it?" asked Ben, as politely as he could. "'Tis agreeable to see you again. I dare say, your name sounds quite Irish."

"Because he _is_ Irish," put in Elizabeth, trying not to feel too disdainful.

"Well, that's only half of it," declared O'Brien. "I have some interesting things to tell you about myself during the tour. You all ready?"

Nan and William looked up from their play and nodded. The rest of the children followed suit. The older girls, including Nan, donned their cloaks.

"Well then, let's proceed," said O'Brien, opening the automatic sliding doors and ushering them outside the guest quarters. "After you, everyone."

* * *

Chapter 15 will feature Felicity and her friends and siblings making a tour de force of the _Enterprise_. That chapter may take long in coming, as I will have to do further research on the schematics of the Galaxy Class ship, as well as organize the tour routes. So bear with me.


	15. Chapter 15

_**Star Trek: The Next Generation – Souvenirs**_

**Written By:**_** Commander Cody CC-2224**_

BRIEF NOTES:

Ah, yes…the tour. Lissie and friends tour the _U.S.S. Enterprise_. I'll do my best to help you see the scenes the way I see it…through my movie-like descriptions. (Though I'm going to find it rather awkward to use the same phrase of "O'Brien and the children…" over and over again…")

* * *

CHAPTER 15

While the children were standing anxiously in the slight circular corridor near the entrance of the guest quarters, O'Brien was mulling over a PADD, deciding which areas of the ship were of particular interest and worth exploring. After a few minutes he came upon a determined conclusion.

"We'll explore the lower decks first, then the higher ones, starting from Deck 10," he announced. "So let's see…hmm…" he continued to himself quite audibly for the children to hear, as he tapped his electronic stick on his PADD, "…There's interesting places on Decks 10 through 14, 16 through 18, 31, and 36; and perhaps later, on the upper decks…let's see…9 and 8, 5, 2, and 1, perhaps, if the captain will allow us to go there…" He said that because Deck 1 was where the _Enterprise_'s main bridge and other few interesting areas were. Other personnel, especially children, were not usually allowed on the bridge, so O'Brien figured he would have to ask permission from Capt. Picard at a later point in order to give the children an opportunity to visit those areas.

"…The rest of the decks are just places for personnel, and may most likely be off-limits to little children. Hmm…one thing about Deck 11…Deck 11 has the holodecks, which we can save for later…"

He tapped on his PADD one more time. "Right, then. That settles it. Ill be your tour guide throughout the lower decks, and perhaps the upper decks as well, if time and the circumstances allow for it. Stick together, and don't wander afar off unless you're within my eyeshot."

Lastly O'Brien turned to Felicity and Elizabeth. "One more thing to be said to you older girls," he announced. "No distracting the personnel with your faerie charms, and that especially includes you, Miss Merriman, given that your handsome looks are mighty enough to make young men start bowing and scraping before you, as if you were some Greek goddess." Then O'Brien lifted his head slightly and faced the rest of the children. "Any questions before we start?"

Felicity goggled, especially that the term "handsome" was particularly disagreeable with her, given that the term was usually reserved for ladies reaching old age, but Elizabeth sort of steadied her.

"We're fine, good sir," assured Elizabeth.

"As am I," put in Ben. _Well, as for Lissie, that remains to be seen_, he thought to himself. The rest of the children nodded in agreement.

"Right then. This way, fellas," he directed, as he led them to the direction of the circular corridor opposite to the route that the children usually took on their way to Ten-Forward. Across the corridor could be heard a fairly announcement coming from a fairly audible dulcet female voice on the ship's public address system: "Maintenance crew to Deck 36, Subsection 21-Alpha…repeat…maintenance crew to Deck 36, Subsection 21-Alpha…"

"You didn't get to finish your tea?" Felicity asked Ben in a rather teasing manner.

Ben could only shake his head with a forced grimace. "Mmph. Not really. It tasted…strange."

"Must have been a while since you had tea," Felicity remarked rather wryly.

As the group strolled by they came across a hexagonal entranceway to a room named Holodeck 5. O'Brien, as usual, was quick to point this out.

"That's the entranceway to Holodeck 5," he said, turning his face a bit to the children while on their stroll. "It's a virtual room, to be a little more exact. That's one of the rooms we'll visit after our entire tour of this ship."

"What's a 'virtual room'?" queried William.

"Oh. It's basically a room where you get to experience the thrill of being in your own fantasy land. For example, if you want to participate in an event that is long past in history, or if you want to step into a certain place that exists or used to exist during a certain time period…"?

"Like Williamsburg?" interrupted Felicity, her heart pounding with both a mixture of excitement wistful longing. "The Williamsburg that we knew?" Felicity was a little homesick about the Williamsburg that she lived in and knew so much.

"Colonial Williamsburg, to be exact," replied O'Brien. "I take it that's where you came from. What year exactly did all you lads and lassies come from, in the first place."

"One thousand, seven hundred and seventy-six," replied Ben.

"Month?"

"April," answered Felicity. "That's the month of my birthday. The twenty-first."

"Date?"

"The second of April," answered Elizabeth.

"Well," continued O'Brien, scratching his head quizzically, "It's April in here."

"Mayhap you might have tendered the thought of celebrating your birthday on board a star-ship?" asked Elizabeth teasingly.

"Aye, I'm kind of wondering what that would be like," put in Ben. Then a thought hit his head as William continued making inquiries on the fascinating holodeck. In the midst of O'Brien and William's conversation, Ben said to Felicity in a slight whisper, "Perhaps we might be able to acquire a cake for your birthday at Ten-Forward. Eventually."

"That might be grand," said Felicity.

Both Ben and Felicity managed to get the last words out of O'Brien when he was talking about the holodeck. "…Basically you would program the settings of the place and time that you want to visit, and _voila_, there you have it."

"How exactly would you do that?" asked William.

"Just press a few settings buttons, that's about all. But the procedure's a tad complicated. In fact, it's so complicated that usually children are not allowed in the holodeck without a grownup, for fear that children might mess up the holodeck settings, or get themselves plain injured, or worse…"

Felicity turned to face Ben. "I am going to miss Williamsburg," she sighed wistfully. But slowly she was beginning to find out how much she liked it on board the _Enterprise. _However, the thought of utilizing such a room to recreate the settings of the Williamsburg of 1776 tingled her mind pleasurably.

"Mayhap we might be able to do that sometime," said Ben. "But after we've explored this ship."

"You'd have to take turns, though," said O'Brien. "There's only about 5 holodeck rooms on board this ship. And some civilians and personnel entertain themselves in there like heck."

Immediately the group stumbled across a rather interesting area of the ship called Room 5013.

"I thought you might be interested in this place. It's called the Planetary Sciences Laboratory."

"Swell," commented Ben, with his eyes widened.

"We get to see stars?" asked Nan, who was giddy with excitement as William was.

"'Course you will," replied O'Brien in his semi-thick British accent. "Right here…"

The little tour group stepped into a lab room graced with a plethora of cool-looking machines and other lab equipment. The room was exceptionally well-lit, due to the ceiling-based fluorescent lights. There was a myriad of hi-definition color computer screens with their flashy displays for visual stats. Holographic images of planets and stars were on an electronic table on one side of the room. Astronomy-based artifacts and planetary samples were encased in a glass display, under intense scrutiny of the lab personnel. There was mild conversation among the personnel as well.

Felicity was wide-eyed with intense wonder as she strolled past the plethora of lab equipment and flashing "Christmas tree" lights when she accidentally bumped into a male lab worker with a sky-blue face in a light-blue uniform toting an aluminum tray holding powder samples.

"Watch it, female human!" scolded the worker in a rather gruff manner.

"S-sorry, s-sir," replied Felicity meekly. She never heard anyone ever call her "female human"; it sounded rather strange to her.

Elizabeth caught her friends arm. "Pay attention, Lissie," she chided in a gentle but firm manner.

The children came across a large glass display containing various rock samples from other planets.

"What is this?" asked Felicity, pointing at a grayish rock in the glass display.

"Moon rock," answered O'Brien.

"I can hardly believe my ears," put in Elizabeth, aghast. "From the moon? Literally?"

"Quite," replied O'Brien.

"My goodness," remarked Felicity in a state of profound awe.

Nan and William were observing intently a hip flask containing pure sulfur powder. Little William, in his incessant curiosity, touched the flask lightly with his right hand index finger. He retracted his finger, and the hip flask bobbed a bit. He did it again, this time with a little more force. A female lab worker, noticing what the boy was doing, told him to stop.

"Young man, stop tipping that sulfur flask, unless you wanna risk sneezing all that powder," she commanded.

William still had his finger on the flask, which was slightly slanted forward relative to his body.

"And get your fingers off the flask," she commanded again.

But seconds later, Felicity was calling his name. "William! Come on! Look at this!" he heard her cry ecstatically.

By accident, William involuntarily pushed the hip flask too far on the narrow table. The flask toppled and fell to the hard "kitchen" floor with a crash. It broke, scattering the yellowish sulfur powder.

"You klutz!" cried the female worker, as she got off her workspace to clean up the mess.

Felicity was the first to face William, as well as the rest of the children. O'Brien immediately intervened to help the worker in the clean-up.

"What did you do this time?" Felicity asked her younger brother in a confused and annoyed manner.

"William broke a sulfur flask, I'm afraid," replied O'Brien emphatically. He turned his face to the worker while using a fine mini dust pan to scoop up the scattered sulfur particles. "I hope that covers the amount you were setting aside for use."

"Hopefully," replied the worker, who was in quite a mild frustration.

"Thank goodness that wasn't contaminated stuff being spilled," remarked O'Brien, as immediately got up and turned to William. "Hands…in your pockets," he commanded curtly.

With a mild sigh William put both his hands into his coat pocket. Then turning back to his older sister, he asked what Felicity was about to show him.

"So what were you about to show me?" he asked, struggling to steady himself while his hands were in his coat pocket.

"This," replied Felicity, pointing to middle-sized emerald-green rock. The rock particle was mottled with brownish stains of dirt, and it was disproportional in form. Nan leaned closer to get a good look of it. Elizabeth tried to make out the rather tiny labeling of the rock sample, written in bold Ariel print.

"'From Dreyfus III, M Class Planet in Kholar Region, Sector 1083, Beta Quadrant"" Elizabeth read out slowly. She was in a bit of a struggle in pronouncing the name "Kholer". For her the name itself was weird.

Felicity snickered. Elizabeth flounced on her.

"What?" she asked, slightly indignant.

"The name, Elizabeth," answered Felicity. "'Tis so funny."

Ben mentally tried to make out the sub-labeling on the base. It read "HARDENED LAVA SAMPLE." _Weird_, he thought to himself. "Lissie, that little green thing is as green as your eyes," he remarked teasingly.

"Oh, Ben!" Felicity couldn't help herself from laughing out loud. It was not only the comment that she found fairly funny, it was also the way Ben phrased it.

"Shhh!" chided Elizabeth, placing her right hand index finger on her mouth, as a signal for them to be quiet.

O'Brien started making the curtain calls. "Chop, chop!" he called. "Shall we move on?"

With last glances, the children walked out of the lab room and followed O'Brien.

"Can I get my hands out of my coat pocket?" asked William.

"You may," O'Brien corrected him. "But the next time you start fiddling with stuff again I will cancel the tour."

"Oh no, please don't!" cried Felicity.

"We wouldn't want that," murmured Nan.

"Anything but that," said Elizabeth in a small voice.

Felicity exhaled. "I guess I'll have to watch you then, William," she said finally, grabbing her younger brother's left hand.

The group strolled through the corridor until they came to the main turbolift.

* * *

Deck 12...

The children followed O'Brien as the strolled through another set of corridors.

"I thought the Nursery would be another interesting place to visit briefly," remarked O'Brien. "There's also the Phaser Range as well, which is located in this deck, but we'll visit that later. Then there's also the Replimat, the Theater and Concert Hall, the Salon, and the Educational facilities, which, again, we'll also visit later, after the grand tour."

"What do people do in the 'Phaser Range'?" asked Ben.

"They train with energy-discharge weapons," answered O'Brien. "They're basically ray guns. Rather than shooting bullets they shoot using energy beam discharges."

The tour group passed by that particular room, where he said that that room was the Phaser Range itself.

"Remind me to visit that place after the tour," said Ben, almost to Felicity. The mention of that place made her heart jump, as she was curious and anxious to try the entire place out.

"I dare say this ship has a lot of interesting places in here," remarked Ben.

"That's not all of it," remarked O'Brien.

Elizabeth decided to switch to another topic. "Pray, what's in that Nursery?" she inquired.

"Well, that's supposed to be another section of sickbays on board every Federation starship," replied O'Brien. "Basically a maternity ward. I thought you girls might be particularly interested with that, since you seem to get awfully charmed with the sight of human infants."

"Did you hear that, Lissie?" said Nan. "We'll get to see babies!"

"Aye, 'tis so," replied Felicity dreamily, remembering her baby sister Polly. Then she awoke from her daydream and perked her head up. "What else might be on Deck Twelve?" she inquired to O'Brien.

"Aside from lavish guest quarters, the gymnasium," answered O'Brien. "But children aren't usually allowed there without adult supervision. The exercise machines in there can injure you if you sorely lack the knowledge on utilizing them properly."

The tour group continued on through the corridors until they came to the Nursery.

"Quiet in there," whispered O'Brien. "The infants are fast asleep, and are not to be wakened."

The room was fairly large, about 30 feet in width and 40 feet in length, and was fairly well-lit by the ceiling-based fluorescent lights. About four moveable carts were in the room, each toting a clear plastic cradle with a sleeping human infant. Both Ben and William were wide-eyed with wonder, but the girls were very much enchanted at the sight of those infants. On one end of the room a single nurse was tapping on her PADD when she immediately looked up.

"Shhh," whispered the nurse.

The girls carefully approached the bassinette on the very left side of the room relative to the Nursery entrance. On the bassinette lay a Caucasian baby boy, fast asleep, covered in a snow-white linen blanket. On one of the sides, specifically the width of the cradle, was label marked with the baby's name: "Samuel Chooke".

"Psst," Felicity whispered to O'Brien. He gave her a rather confused look as he was surveying another infant nearest the one being surveyed by the girls. Ben was surveying the other infant nearest the one where O'Brien was.

"Can we touch him?"

"Only lightly," O'Brien whispered back.

Felicity brought her twitchy fingers on the baby's cheeks and stroked his head. Elizabeth and Nan probably did the same thing, too. After that, Nan rushed off to the next bassinette nearest the baby boy's. Another Caucasian infant.

"It's a girl," whispered Nan rather excitedly, eyeing on the name label. The older girls too great strides to where Nan was. The baby was wrapped in a snow-white swaddling linen blanket.

"Why, how do you know?" inquired Felicity. Her younger sister pointed out the label. It read "Catherine Edgewater".

"Catherine?" asked Elizabeth. "Hmm…that's the name my mother has."

"Really?" asked Felicity incredulously. Her friend never told her much about her parents, other than the fact that they came from London in England and were Loyalists.

"Mm-hmm," said Elizabeth proudly, with a mischievous smirk on her face. Felicity mouth was slightly agape.

"What about your father?" asked Felicity.

"John."

"Wow. Such homely names," remarked Felicity.

The girls continued staring intently with wide eyes at the baby girl.

"Her cheeks do really invite kissing," remarked Felicity.

"Aye, 'tis true," agreed Elizabeth. "Just give her a quick peck on the forehead. We don't want to wake her up."

With a nod, Felicity slowly bent over and dropped a gentle kiss on the baby's forehead. The infant stirred slightly in her sleep.

"I want to kiss her, too," said Nan.

"Kiss away," replied Felicity. Both she and Elizabeth burst into a muffled fit of giggles.

Nan, being a little bit taller than the moveable cart carrying the bassinette, bent her head over and kissed the baby's right cheek and stroked it gently with her fingers.

The enchanting moment was interrupted when Ben whispered, "Hey, you lot! Check this one out!" The three girls hurried to where O'Brien and the boys were.

A baby boy with tiny bristling hairs protruding from around his forehead, was sleeping in a clear plastic bassinette, and wrapped in the same blankets as the rest of the infants were. There were hairs on the cheeks, which was rather unusual. Even when the infant was asleep, his eyes were remarkably wide open, and the pupils of his eyes were somewhat dilated.

"He's an Andorian," remarked O'Brien. "Andorian infants tend to sleep with their eyes wide-open. To them it's one of their basic body functions."

"He looks awfully ugly," remarked Nan rather innocently.

Suddenly the baby's eyes glowed a glaring red. The girls recoiled in shock, especially the boys. They had never seen an infant do something like that before. The whole thing was eerily weird.

"I-I think he looks angry," remarked Ben cautiously. He looked too fascinated with the infant to be frightened.

"About what?" asked Felicity.

"About the remark that your little sister made, I think."

Felicity turned to her younger sister. "Nan, how could you?" she asked rather indignantly. Nan could only make a hand gesture that indicated that she didn't know.

Felicity was determined to rectify the problem. Bracing herself, she decided to flatter the Andorian infant, even if it did look awfully repulsive to her.

"I-I dare say, y-you look quite handsome," she declared hesitantly.

The baby's eyes retracted its glare and the pupils returned to a state of normalcy. His glare was gone.

"H-how did you do that?" asked William wondrously.

"I-I don't know," replied Felicity. "I certainly wasn't aware that the baby liked flattery so much."

"True enough," put in O'Brien. "An Andorian infant's eyes glare red-hot whenever you insult it."

"Him, you mean?" asked Elizabeth.

"Quite."

"So what was the other baby you were surveying?" asked Felicity.

"Oh. Just another baby boy by the name of Claude Kinnon."

"Sounds French," remarked Ben.

"Shall we move on?" asked O'Brien.

The tour group proceeded out of the Nursery, with the older girls waving back and blowing kisses at the sleeping infants.

* * *

Deck 13...

"We could have visited Shuttlebay 2 on Deck 12, but unfortunately the bay is undergoing serious maintenance, and is strictly off-limits to most personnel, except the maintenance crew, of coure" said O'Brien, as he and the children strolled through the Deck 13 corridors in the _Enterprise_'s saucer section. "But Deck 13 has a shuttlebay that is…"visitable", if you will."

The older girls tittered to themselves.

"So that's the bay we'll be arriving to shortly."

In a few seconds the tour group arrived to the entrance of the shuttlebay.

"Ladies and gentlemen, behold the grandness of Shuttlebay 2."

The entire bay was as large as a basketball court, and noisy as could be, with the echoes of air rushing in various directions, some shouting of orders to various personnel. Five Delta Class flyers were parked neatly in a single row in the middle of the bay, facing the shuttlebay door. A blaring announcement could be heard on the PA.

"Attention, all personnel," said a dulcet female voice aloud, "Preparations for Flight Test A-17…" The children didn't bother to hear the rest, as more incomprehensible technobabble was coming in.

The tour group spied a shuttlecraft that was hovering in the air, undergoing flight tests and simulations. The children's eyes were wide with immense wonder, as they had never seen a vehicle hover in midair.

"Lissie, look! There's something hovering in midair!" cried Nan ecstatically, pointing her right hand index finger on the hovering Delta Flyer.

"I know," replied Felicity, her eyes wide with wonder.

"I wish I could fly," said William.

"I dare say, I have never seen anything aside from a bird that can actually fly," declared Elizabeth.

"So do I," put in Ben.

"How's that possible?" Elizabeth asked herself.

O'Brien seemed to hear her, even in the midst of all the noise encompassing the entire bay. "Long story, Miss Cole," he said. He was rather hesitant to divulge the details, as the Temporal Prime Directive prohibited divulging of future information to people of the past.

"Oh, please tell us," pleaded Felicity.

"You won't understand it," answered O'Brien. "Especially you, Miss Merriman. You're just a bit of a girl with a minute brain."

Felicity scowled. She didn't particularly like being called a "bit of a girl", nor be implied as someone who was exceptionally stupid. "I am not," she retorted hotly.

"Right, right," began O'Brien. "Basically the issue of flight was solved around the inception of the 20th century, when two bicycle workers from Dayton, Ohio, came up with a machine that could literally hover in midair for a fair 12 seconds. Later on, flight technology made its gradual advances as the 20th century progressed. Then came a time when man could send people up in space. Much later on, we Earthlings had the capability to build starships that could travel through space faster than the speed of light."

Elizabeth could somewhat understand what O'Brien was saying, though this information left some gaps in her mind. Felicity also felt the same way, too.

O'Brien felt that if he and the children stayed too long in the shuttlebay they would start asking him more questions. "Shall we move on?" he asked the children as he strutted back to the entrance way, with the children following him, giving last-minute glances of the hovering Delta Flyer.

* * *

Deck 14...

"Our next stop is the Arboretum, which I think you children, especially you lassies, will find of significant interest," continued O'Brien, as he led the children out of the main turbolift.

"What does it look like?" asked Felicity. Back when she was in Williamsburg and especially in the King's Creek Plantation, she always enjoyed the outdoors.

"You find out," answered O'Brien. "Basically it's an "outdoor" setting, for want of a better word. The place is set up in a manner that you'll feel as if you're outside on God's green earth, even if the place in inside, on board a starship."

In a few moments the tour group made their entry into what appeared to be an "outdoor" setting in a room.

The arboretum as large as the Merrimans' backyard and had a quaint natural setting. Aside from a pure green grassy lawn and a copse of bushes, it was also equipped with a crystal clear pond in the shape of a Valentine heart. The pond was graced with two large natural rocks, situated in the middle of the symmetrical boundary. A patio bench graced the left side nearest the entranceway facing relative to the entrance.

Instinctively both Nan and William started running around the arboretum lawn. The older girls took a little stroll across the lawn as well, making their ladylike approaches to the pond. Ben took his own little stroll around as well.

"Hmm…Just like the Garden of Eden," remarked Ben rather sarcastically.

"Oh, very funny, Benjamin Davidson," returned Felicity, as she dipped her right hand into the cool pond water.

"The water is so cool to the touch, don't you think, Elizabeth?"

Felicity's friend did the same thing that she did. "Aye, tis true. I've never seen water this clean in my entire life."

"Like Miller's Pond?"

"Aye, it does remind me of that," said Felicity wistfully.

"I'm willing to bet that all this is going to remind you of Williamsburg."

Felicity looked at Ben. "What's wrong with a girl longing to be back to the place that she knew and grew up for so long?"

Ben simply shrugged in reply and continued looking around the arboretum in fascination. O'Brien decided to take a stroll around, too, while he had the opportunity, even if he visited the place loads of times when his wife worked in there.

* * *

Deck 18...

When the children were finished feasting their eyes on the arboretum O'Brien decided to take them to a cargo bay on Deck 18.

"We'll be visiting one of the cargo bays on Deck 18," he announced.

"What's in there?" asked William.

"Well, usually crates and stuff?"

"What in heaven's name supposed to be so interesting about that?" asked Ben sarcastically. He was so used to seeing shelves and other goods while he was learning a trade in the Merriman General Store that he thought the cargo bay would hold nothing out of the ordinary.

"It won't hurt to take a look," said Felicity in a reassuring tone of voice.

When the tour group arrived to the cargo bay, they were stopped by a Starfleet ensign in yellow uniform.

"So this is one of the warehouses of the ship?" asked Ben.

The group approached closer.

"Sorry, folks, you cain't come in here," he said, raising his right hand in some kind of gesture indicating them to stop and stay where they are.

"Why not?" asked Felicity in a rather saucy tone of voice.

"Clean-up crew on duty," replied the ensign. "They're scrubbing the floor."

"I don't see how that should stop us from looking around," put in Ben.

O'Brien sighed. "Well, this is what the cargo bay looks like," he said.

As the children surveyed the entire area they noticed that ceiling was a tad higher than the ballroom at the Templetons'. Shelves on each side were stacked with crates with weird but neatly drawn markings. Plastic-looking barrels lined the middle of the room, and huge-looking boxes towered near the right side. Professional-looking suitcases graced the front area of the bay as well.

"Let's move on," announced O'Brien emphatically. "There's nothing interesting in here anyway."

Felicity looked as though she could berate O'Brien for saying such a thing, especially that she and the rest of her siblings and friends had never seen a cargo bay that looked so different from the ones they usually saw back in their own time. She scowled seconds before Elizabeth steadied her again.

"'Tis not your place to correct your elders, Lissie," whispered Elizabeth. "There are more interesting things to look at on board this ship."

Heaving a rather irritable sigh, Felicity followed the tour leader, with Nan, William, and Ben trailing behind.

* * *

Decks 25 and 31...

"You're not too tired walking, I hope?" O'Brien asked the children.

"We're too damn fascinated to be tired, sir," replied Ben. Felicity heaved a rather exasperated sigh at the sound of the seemingly mild swearword. _If Father keeps hearing Ben talking like that, it's curtains_, she thought to herself.

The group resumed their tour across the saucer section corridors until they came to the entrance of the ship's torpedo bay. Inside the bay, facing from the entranceway, could be seen a control console to the left side, and a single Mark VII torpedo propped on a scaffold-like table. The ordnance was hacked open to reveal its interior workings.

"What in the name of Providence is this?" inquired Ben, too shocked. As a boy he had been especially fascinated with weapons of war. For him this was something fascinatingly new, as the torpedo was not even invented, much less developed, around the 18th century.

"A single Mark VII torpedo undergoing surgical procedures, Mr. Davidson." Pointing at a yellow package attached to the front part of the projectile, he added, "That's the antimatter warhead. Dangerous if ignited on board. Can cause a serious chain reaction that can literally trigger a cataclysmic explosion on board the vessel. Don't touch." He said this after William was close to getting his itchy-twitchy fingers on that yellow thingamabob seconds before Felicity caught his hand. "The other stuff that you see at the other end of this little baby are the guidance modules, used to track the torpedo to its designated target. The very back comprises the propulsion engines."

It seemed kind of doubtful that the children were able understand a word of what O'Brien was saying, given that he was using technical terms of the 24th century. But at least they seemed to get the gist that that "little baby" was dangerous to handle, and should be treated with the utmost respect, and that especially meant no touching the parts.

With the assistance of one of the yellow-uniformed personnel, the children managed to take a glimpse of the Mark VII torpedoes in the storage bays. The reaction of the children was as usual: stupefied awe.

After that seemingly brief but fascinating open house tour of the torpedo bay, O'Brien and the children took the main turbolift to Deck 31, in the hopes of getting glimpse of the some of the science labs. However, upon reaching the lab entrance of one of the rooms, they were literally halted by an ensign in blue uniform.

"Sorry, guys. Can't come in here."

"Why not?" asked Felicity in an impertinent manner.

"The lab is unfortunately undergoing a major cleanup operation after going through a dangerous chemical spill."

The ensign was right for the most part. The entire lab room was completely sealed off by clear-plastic curtains, and a yellow holographic ticker tape boundary with the flickering red words reading CAUTION! That streaked across the holographic ticker tape was set up across the room from one end to the next. Almost every crewman in the room was wearing some kind of respiratory protection gear on their heads, and clad in raincoat-like suits. A lot of noise was generated by the loud hums emanating from the plethora of equipment used during the cleanup operation.

"What kind?" inquired O'Brien.

"A klutzy science officer accidentally spilled a canister of trilithium resin on the floor."

"Ouch! That must be terrible!" he exclaimed in a rather serious manner. Trilithium resin was the most toxic agent to sentient human life forms. Its potential lethality was such that Starfleet regulations put a ban on these weaponized chemicals.

William was about to stalk into the restricted area when O'Brien grabbed his arm. "No, Merriman. Dangerous place. Get it?" He turned to the ensign, heaving a rather exasperated sigh. "Oh, well. We'd best be off then."

"Right," replied the ensign, giving a rather curt nod. "Thanks for your cooperation."

"Don't mention it."

The tour group was forced to turn back and head to the next unexplored level.

* * *

Deck 36...

The last level for the tour de force of the group's descent into the lower decks was the Main Engineering. O'Brien and the children made their crossing from the saucer section to the stardrive section, where the Engineering level was.

"You'll find it quite interesting, but remember: no touching buttons and no distracting the personnel. And as an aside, you all might have the privilege of meeting the Chief Engineer."

"Who's he?" asked Felicity.

"Leftenant Junior Grade Geordi La Forge."

"Sounds French." remarked Ben rather wryly.

"Yeah, it kind of does," replied O'Brien. "Only that…he's no pure Frenchman."

"Then what is he?" asked Ben.

"You'll find out soon enough," huffed O'Brien, as he and the children made their passage through a straight corridor.

The tour group entered the Engineering section via the starboard side of a T-junction. Facing relative to the starboard entrance was an electronic computer screen displaying the layout of the entire starship, which was commonly known as the Master Systems Display (MSD). Like the MSD, there were a lot of little colored lights glowing here and there, around the screen. Computer screens in the Engineering section lit up at random occasions. The touch-screen pads had certain little touchbuttons stay lit whenever a touchbutton was engaged. Around the Engineering section were multiple crew personnel, as well as a few chaps in red uniform present, busying themselves on monitoring the screens and controlling the engineering functions.

In the middle of the foyer area was a fairly long table with a detailed electronic computer display layout of the starship. It wasn't exactly rectangular; rather it appeared to be two octagonal solids positioned at one end, with a square betwixt them. On top of the squarish region was a rectangular solid with two long slanted sides and one long flat top. That solid was an interactive device, O'Brien explained, which controlled some of the ship's basic engineering functions.

But what really astounded the children themselves was whatever la at the other end of the Engineering section. Facing relative to the MSD was the heart of the entire starship's propulsion system: the warp drive. At the other end of the room was a huge tube encompassed in glowing blue light that flickered its pale blue lights rhythmically. The tube was footed on a shiny metal pedestal with various glowing lights and such, and was in turn attached to a long shiny metal pipe. As the tour group visited that other end of the room, they could witness the expanse of the tube's height; it was nearly 3 to 4 stories high. A second level which could only be reached by ladder loomed above them.

"Lissie, look?" cried Nan, pointing her right hand index finger above the extension of the coil.

"My God, how's that possible?" asked Ben in wonder.

"I'm wondering about that myself, too," put in Felicity, who was in some kind of trance about these mind-boggling technological stuff.

"Wh…what's all this?" Ben asked O'Brien.

"That…is the ship's warp core system," he explained in a rather blunt manner. "It's what propels most starships to travel faster than light."

"What does that mean?" piped up William.

"It's a long story," answered O'Brien. "The basic fact is that light travels at an estimate of 672 billion miles per hour."

"That just seems so awful fast," put in Felicity.

"Quite so, Miss Merriman. The physics aspects of it are too complicated for you to understand, as you'll most likely end up sleeping before I even get the part of explaining why light travels like that. But basically that's how the ship is capable of traveling."

The wonder drama lasted for what seemed an eternity. Elizabeth mesmerized herself with the incredible spectacle; her avid blue eyes nearly dilated to absorb those astonishing sights.

"'Tis so…wonderful," remarked Elizabeth dreamily.

"You ain't seen nothin' yet," came a Southern voice from behind.

The children were waken up from their dreamlike trance in the warp section, only to find a tall black man in a yellow Starfleet uniform facing them. His posture looked quite relaxed, though his body seemed to indicate that he seemed to be in quite a hurry about something. He was toting a PADD on his right hand, and his eyes were covered by a weird-looking semicircular metallic device wrapped around his front. O'Brien turned to face him. The girls had their hands to their heart, indicating a seemingly ladylike gesture of shock and astonishment.

"Kids, meet the Chief Engineer of the _U. S. S. Enterprise_: Leftenant Junior Grade Geordi la Forge."

"Leftenant?" asked Elizabeth, shocked.

"_Lieu_tenant," corrected La Forge. "You Brits are always gettin' it wrong."

Elizabeth shrank back. "My apologies," she replied in a rather curt manner.

La Forge peered through his device. "Say, you're the kiddies that were cooped up in the cryo-tubes the moment we set eyes on you!"

"Right, Commander," put in O'Brien. "The captain thought that they would like a little tour of the entire ship. May I present to you Miss Felicity Merriman, Miss Nan Merriman, Mr. William Merriman, Miss Elizabeth Cole, and the honorable Mr. Benjamin Davidson."

"Charmed."

Felicity stepped up. "What is that thing you're wearing in front of your eyes?"

"That _thing_?" asked La Forge, pointing at the curvy device. "_That_…is my VISOR. That's V-I-S-O-R."

Felicity was getting rather indignant about being implied as clueless. "We know how to spell that word, sir. We're not stupid."

"Lissie!" exclaimed Elizabeth, astonished at her friend's audacity. "How could you?"

Felicity just simply crossed her arms, acting as if she was important. La Forge was taken back a little.

"Sorry," he apologized. "I was under the impression that if you really were from the 18th century you would generally be…well…dimwitted."

"Actually…" intervened O'Brien. "Miss Merriman's not as dimwitted as you think."

"Well, forgive me if I hadn't studied colonial history enough," replied La Forge sarcastically. "While you were porin' over your favorite history books I was porin' over my engineering stuff."

"That's not true," contradicted O'Brien. "I was also poring through the very same stuff you were studying to become a specialist in the engineering field."

La Forge was interrupted when a Caucasian ensign in yellow uniform approached him.

"What?" he asked rather curtly, as he abruptly turned his face to see him.

"Chief, we've got a slight glitch in the dilithium crystal chamber. Those crystals aren't growing properly as they should."

"Is it that serious as to affect the stability of our warp drive?"

"Not really, sir, though it might be worth taking a peek."

"Yeah, I'll take care of that in a minute."

"Right-o." The ensign strutted off to resume his post.

"Anyway…" continued La Forge. "The acronym for my VISOR is Visual Instrument and Sensory Organ Replacement. It's basically a visual aid for patients who have suffered loss of eyesight or have been born blind. Wearers of this device can see in the infrared and ultraviolet level, thus making such a device like that so unique."

"Wow," remarked William.

"In my case, it's born blind."

"Dear me," remarked Elizabeth softly.

"That little baby was given to me on my fifth birthday."

"Well, you can be pretty relieved, Miss Cole, that there are ways of getting past this problem," declared O'Brien.

"I-I've got to get back to work. You can pretty much see me around again, when I'm not too damn busy. I've got to check on those dilithium crystals." He was in the midst of turning his back and making haste when Ben interrupted him.

"Sir," he called.

La Forge turned to face Ben. "What, man?"

Ben silently tried to form the words for whatever he was asking from La Forge. "I have a question to ask, and, well…" he glanced at Felicity, who gave back a demure look, then turned his face to the Chief Engineer. …"I hope you're not to offended by it."

"Shoot."

Ben looked rather confused. "Shoot?" he asked inquisitively.

"Yeah," replied La Forge. "You know, start talking."

"Very well." Ben cleared his throat before he began. "How is it possible that you, as a Negro, or darkie, or however they call you, manage to get in to a high-level position as that of Chief Engineer?"

La Forge gave Ben a benign but baffled look. Ben decided to elaborate on the subject matter a little more.

"…Because, well, in the timeline where I came from, we're not used to seeing black people having the same freedoms or opportunities as the white men do." He felt a bit of anxiety over the idea that La Forge would be offended by the question.

La Forge just simply shrugged his shoulders. "Well…that…is a looong story, Mr. Davidson. I-I'm not that sure I should be divulging the details to you, given that we have to abide by a strict observance of the Temporal Prime Directive."

"Aye, I know," sighed Ben. "The one that always keeps saying that we shouldn't know too much about the future."

"Correct," replied La Forge tersely, but in a rather jovial manner.

"Pity," lamented Felicity, hanging her head slightly. "We always have to be left in the dark as to what the future holds in store."

"Lissie," said Elizabeth. "Perhaps we should just dwell on what we do know, and refrain from dwelling on what we do not."

Felicity turned to her friend and beamed. "You sound just like my mother, Elizabeth."

"Really?"

La Forge decided to break the mood. "Well, unless there are any _intelligent_ questions, I'm goin' back to work on checking that screwy dilithium crystal chamber."

"Whatever you say, Chief," replied O'Brien with a nod. The tour group was about to take their leave when La Forge called after Ben.

"And Mr. Davidson?"

Ben turned around to face him.

"Don't call the Negroes "darkies". Some of us blacks don't really take this term too lightly. Plus, I don't wanna have to send Security to intervene over a trifling matter such as one that concerns the color of his or her skin."

In other words, La Forge did not want to have to go to the trouble of sending Security to stop a fight that could ensue on account race-baiting on board the _Enterprise_.

I'll try to remember that, sir," replied Ben, as he tipped his tricorn hat. La Forge waved him off and resumed his post.

"Come on, children," he commanded, turning his face to where they were. "I think we've seen quite enough of the lower level, so we'd best proceed with…"

He was interrupted when his combadge emitted two audible beeps in fast rhythmic motion.

"Foeman to O'Brien."

O'Brien tapped his combadge. "Go ahead."

"You're wanted immediately back in Transporter Room 2 for maintenance shift."

"Right-o. I've got five kiddies that the captain told me to give a tour of this entire behemoth for, so after I drop them off at the Counselor's office I can arrive back there pretty soon."

"Well hurry up."

"I will. O'Brien out."

O'Brien faced the children again. "That's pretty much it for the downstairs level," he said finally. "Let's go. I've got to be back in Transporter Room 2 very soon, so don't dawdle." Leading the way, he proceeded out of Main Engineering, with the children trailing behind him.

"How's all that possible?" asked Felicity.

"How's all what possible?"

"Those things that we just saw."

"Ask that question later when we've finished with the tour," answered O'Brien, "When you've soaked your spongy mind with all the wonders of this starship."

* * *

This is only the first part of the tour. The second part will be coming up in the next chapter, as well as Elizabeth's discussion with Felicity about what her friend and Ben did in Ten-Forward (since Elizabeth wanted to discuss that affair in private, since Nan and William were within earshot during breakfast time…).

I tried my best to describe the discussed rooms on board the _Enterprise_ as accurately as I could, based on the knowledge acquired from , as well as some cross-section imagery of the rooms obtained from Ex Astris Scientia. If you want more info, look up .

A/N: Ideas for the holographic ticker tape boundary were derived from the movie _I, Robot_.


	16. Chapter 16

_**Star Trek: The Next Generation – Souvenirs**_

**Written By:**_** Commander Cody CC-2224**_

CHAPTER 16

The main turbolift was making its seemingly long ascent to the upper decks of the ship.

"Where are we going?" piped up William.

"Deck Nine," replied O'Brien in a rather curt manner.

"Why?"

"Because that's where the Counselor is. She's scheduled to continue the tour for you kids."

"You prearranged all this?" asked Ben.

"Why not?" asked O'Brien, glancing at him.

The turbolift doors opened as soon as it reached Deck 9.

"Come on, children. Let's not dawdle. I've got to be back on duty very soon, so don't let me down."

The troupe took another stroll through the saucer section corridors until they came to the entranceway of the Counselor's quarters. O'Brien immediately rang the door chime by the touch of a touchbutton, and the ring was promptly answered by the Counselor's sexy voice.

"Come."

O'Brien and the children entered into the room. It was rather squarish, with slight curves at the other far end relative to the entranceway. A bluish carpet graced the floor. The place had a rather feminine look. Venetian blinds blanketed a right end, even though there were no windows. A large potted plant was near the central sofa. Who should be sitting in the central sofa facing back but Counselor Troi. She immediately got up in a ladylike manner and greeted the tour group as hospitably as she could.

"Counslor," said O'Brien in a rather curt manner, making a very slight bow gesture. "I take it you know these children since you first met them in the Main Sickbay."

"Of course, chief," replied Troi sweetly. "Actually, this is the…second time I'm meeting them right now." She eyed both Felicity and Ben.

"And how's your crush with each other coming along so far?" she asked rather mischievously.

"Oh, please," muttered Ben as he sighed in slight exasperation. Then he regained himself. ""Tis going along…all right." He said falteringly.

Troi let out a slight chuckle. "Crushes among children your age seem to be…juicy news…for people like me," she remarked. "In fact…the bar guy told me that…"

"Counselor, I think we should just simply get on with the business of the grand tour," interrupted O'Brien in a rather serious tone of voice. "I've got to be back on duty in Transporter Room Two."

Troi simply shrugged. "Oh. Sorry." She grinned rather mischievously.

"Anyway, you seem to have scheduled me for the tour. I can start right now if you wish. And it was the upper decks of the _Enterprise_ that you wanted me to show the children."

"Right. Actually, you won't have to bother showing _all_ areas of the decks. Just the ones that you might consider of great interest."

"Okay."

O'Brien turned to the children. "I'll be back to take you on a grand tour of Holodeck 5, which should be fairly close to where you reside on Deck Ten, kids. All right?"

The children nodded. O'Brien promptly left the room.

"Well…kids? Let's pick up where O'Brien left off."

* * *

Deck 8...

The little tour group took the main turbolift to the Deck 8 level and proceed past yet another set of corridors until they came to a doorway entrance with the closed doors identifying the room as Room 3601.

"Captain's quarters," said Troi. "Don't worry; I've asked the captain himself if we could go take a peek and he gave us permission."

The children beamed.

"…As long as you don't touch anything."

Felicity gave William a rather serious look, and William sort of shrank back.

It so happened that the captain's quarters was situated at the port side of the saucer section. It had windows as large as the Templeton ballroom windows, spanning about 12 feet in length and 7 feet in width. There were a total of 5 windows on the end of the room's length.

Details could come to life as Troi switched on the fluorescent lights. The floor was covered in a reddish brown carpet. There was a freshly carved rosewood desk, with an elegant-looking mahogany swivel chair at the other end of the desk. A plethora of antiques from other alien worlds graced the captain's quarters. For instance a large pewter cup was near the left end of the room relative to the entranceway. A special harmonica from a different alien world lay alongside the desk. And an elegantly drawn framed picture of a Galaxy Class starship was situated on the wall near the desk area.

The children were utterly amazed by what they saw, especially Felicity and her sisters, since they probably weren't used to having a lot of finery in the Merriman household. Even Ben was taken aback. Elizabeth was, too, though her reaction was slight, given that she came from a tad higher social class in her time.

"Well, children, I'm dying to know what you think," said Troi.

Felicity was suddenly awakened by her mesmerizing. "W-What?" she stuttered.

"Lissie's been daydreaming," remarked Ben casually.

"About the things she wished she could have?" asked Troi, laughing genially to herself.

"Aye," replied Felicity dreamily.

Troi was silent for a moment. "I sense that you set your heart on things too much," she remarked.

"Like what she did with Penny," put in Ben.

"Who's Penny?"

"My beloved horse," replied Felicity. Her voice was rather wistful. "I really miss her. She was such a fine one to begin with."

"You must be quite a horse-lover then."

Felicity nodded.

Troi cleared her throat. "Well, Miss Merriman, I seem to sense that your setting your heart on things can end up leading to reckless actions."

"Now that's bad news," put in Ben rhythmically in a mocking tone of voice.

Felicity felt as if she had been criticized by that remark, so she cast a rather cross look at him. "There's nothing wrong with a little girl doing that, is there?" she asked tartly.

Ben regained himself. "Well…maybe not." He remembered that if it wasn't for Felicity setting her heart on things she would not have developed feelings for him. He decided to end the matter right here. "Frankly I find nothing wrong with that, up to a certain point. It what makes Lissie unique as she is."

Felicity smiled at Ben. _I hope that cheers her up_, thought Ben to himself.

"…Though a tad more caution might come in handy," put in Troi. She faced the middle of the room. "Shall we go look that Battle Bridge?"

"What's that?"

"The auxiliary command center of the stardrive section of the _Enterprise_."

"I'd like to see it," said Ben. He seemed to have quite a fascination for all things military.

"I know you would," replied Troi, sensing Ben's interest in boyish things. "Spit Spot."

Troi dimmed the lights and sealed the entranceway to the captain's quarters. Then the tour group continued their route to the type of bridge that she mentioned.

"So what do people on a 'bridge' do?" asked William.

"Personnel run the entire ship from that command hub," replied Troi. "They pilot the ship, engage various functions internally, including security, and issue orders to the civilians."

William couldn't understand the rest, but he managed to get the gist that the "bridge" was the command center of a starship.

By the time the talk was finished after nearly a minute the tour group arrived to the entrance to the Battle Bridge.

"_Voila_," chirped Troi. The automatic sliding doors opened, and in they entered.

The room was entirely vacant and slightly dim. The Battle Bridge was circular, and it was about the average size of one of the Galaxy Class guest suites, and about half the size of the Main Bridge, as Troi was quick to point out. Computer display screens lined the back wall of the bridge, and were situated away from children's reach. There were four control consoles in the room; two, called the analysis consoles were on each side nearest the ends, and the other two, commonly known as the stardrive control consoles, were on the very front. Each of the consoles had a bolted chair. A captain's chair was situated in the middle of the room. At the front end of the room was a huge view-screen almost spanning both ends.

"The place looks awfully cramped," remarked Ben.

"Wait till you see the ready room of this bridge," said Troi.

The group cautiously made their steps to the ready room, which was located on the port side of the bridge. William couldn't resist getting his itching hands on one of those buttons on the port analysis console.

"No, touching, William!" chided Felicity in a whisper, as she caught his hand.

"Awwh," replied William, disappointed.

The tour group entered the ready room when Troi let it up with the flick of a touch-button switch. It was almost the size of a walk-in closet, and very well-lit. Situated near the wall where the entranceway was on the left end was a small desk with a fabric swivel chair. A replicator was at the right side part of the wall facing relative to the doorway.

"Now this place looks even awfully more cramped," remarked Ben in a rather wry manner.

"Must remind you of Father's counting room," said Felicity. When she helped her father and Ben at the Merriman General Store she could remember what Mr. Merriman's counting room was like.

"What do you mean, Miss Merriman?" asked Troi.

"My father has a counting room in the General Store where he does most of his business work," said Felicity.

"Had," corrected Troi.

"Aye, that was back in our time," said Felicity, as she lovingly stroked the fabric swivel chair near the desk.

"Annabelle would be most claustrophobic in here," remarked Elizabeth. Her older sister occasionally complained about how crowded Williamsburg was.

"Who's she?" asked Troi.

"Elizabeth's snobby older sister," answered Felicity, on behalf of her friend. "She thinks the colonists are…"

"…Scum?" interrupted Troi. "Wow."

"That's too strong a word for her to describe them," said Ben, quizzically scratching his head.

Felicity was tempted to divulge to Troi the fact that Annabelle was sweet on Ben, but Ben would hear, and she would lose the power of that threat. So she refrained from doing so. After surveying the entire room for a brief moment, Felicity turned to friend.

"Bananabelle will surely be envious of us if she knew what we're doing in here," she said. Elizabeth burst into a fit of muffled giggles, and so did Felicity,

Troi decided to break the mood. "Shall we go on? Or would you older girls prefer to go back to the guest quarters chatting away like magpies about how so-and-so is sweet on so-and-so?"

Both older girls shook their heads solemnly.

Troi smiled. "I thought so. Shall we continue on?"

The children stepped out of the ready room and Troi dimmed the lights.

* * *

Deck 5...

"The Detention Area you'll find of immense interest," said Troi, as she and the children made their way through the corridors of the saucer section.

The Detention Area was where the brigs were kept. Although the children were quite curious as to what the brig section on the _Enterprise_ would be like, they were also curious as to why Troi would go to the trouble of showcasing such an area to them. _Was it a reminder of what would happen to us if we behave badly on board?_ Felicity thought to herself.

"This be one of the rooms," remarked Troi, as they reached the foyer area of the Detention Center.

Left of the foyer area was one of the brig holds. Almost all the brigs were vacant, save for one on the very front end facing the entranceway, where a humanoid life form with light skin and a mottled face was confined. Two security guards were posted near the entranceway where the prisoner was. Each brig was about the size of a walk-in closet, with an octagonal entranceway sealed by a force field, whose horizontal lengths were slightly longer than the rest of the lengths in the octagonal shape. Near the entranceway was a control console and a monitor, where a lone ensign monitored the status of the detention cells.

"Why is he there?" asked Felicity, as she stared intently at the poor chap.

"He was caught red-handed in a brawl in Ten-Forward," replied Troi. "His behavior was getting too violent, so he was forced into temporary confinement."

Ben surveyed the entire center. "Thank God at that at least these holding cells have more humane conditions than the Williamsburg jail."

Both Felicity and Elizabeth nodded, as they remembered Mr. Nye being confined in the Williamsburg jail.

"Let's go," whispered Troi.

* * *

Deck 2...

"Again, Decks 4 and 3 are not much of any particular interest to you, kiddies," said Troi. "But one feature of the starship that I thought you might enjoy visiting is the Banquet Hall. After that there's Deck 1, where we will take a brief tour of the Bridge, the Ready Room, and the Observation Lounge."

"And that's it?" asked Felicity.

"Pretty much."

"Are there balls that take place in the Banquet Hall?" inquired Elizabeth.

"Well, yeah. Close. But the balls and dances on board are quite different than the ones you're used to back in your time. There's tap dance, tango, all sorts…"

"When might we see them?"

"Well, not for another time, I'm afraid."

The children were exceptionally awed when the encountered the Banquet Room. From Felicity and Elizabeth's perspective it was definitely the size of the Templeton ballroom when they visited it during the Christmas ball. The huge, grand room was vacant, and it was lighting level was dimmed almost to a candlelight surrounding. The glossed floor shone in the fairly lit fluorescent lights. The long banquet table had no covering whatsoever, but was kept clean. The restaurant-style tables and chairs were neatly arranged in their proper places.

"Fit for a king," remarked Elizabeth proudly.

"Right, like George the Third," put in Ben wryly. "Him and all the finery he wears…I would be surprised if…"

"Ben, there's no need for this talk," chided Elizabeth, as she gave him a demure frown.

"Quiet, Bitsy," said Ben in a mockingly superior tone of voice.

"I detest that nickname," said Elizabeth, almost for the hundredth time.

But Ben continued his tease. "…" he recited in a hasty rhythmic manner. He was interrupted rudely when Felicity slapped him in the back of his head. "Hey!" he exclaimed indignantly.

"Stop teasing my best friend," scolded Felicity.

"But the name rolls off the tongue quite nicely, don't you think, Lizzie?" he asked Elizabeth, as he massaged the area of his head where he got slapped. Elizabeth only looked at him disapprovingly in silence.

"Besides, your Loyalist parents aren't here to scold me," added Ben.

"Nay, but I am," replied Felicity in a rather tart manner.

Ben heaved an exasperated sigh. "Girls just…don't have any sense of humor…" he said to himself. The older girls started dancing playfully around the cleared areas of the Banquet Hall.

"'Tis wonderful!" exclaimed Felicity.

"Why don't we try dancing the minuet in here?" asked Elizabeth.

Nan rushed to where the older girls were. "'Tis like being in the ballroom," she squeaked. William started running around the vacant areas of the room. Ben sat on the end of the banquet table nearest the entranceway and stretched his long legs. Troi could not help laughing at this scene.

After a few minutes Troi decided it was time to move on. "I hope you've seen enough. I think it's time to move to another level of this ship."

* * *

Deck 1...

"I thought you might like to see the Observation Lounge, first, before we start on the Main Bridge." said Troi as they walked through yet another set of corridors in the ship's saucer section.

"Can't wait to see what it's like," remarked Elizabeth.

"Where is it specifically?" asked Ben.

"The aft part of the saucer section."

In a few moments the group arrived to the entranceway. The place was usually lighted regularly, but only at a dim setting. When Troi brightened the room a little bit, the details could show up crystal clear in the bathing fluorescent light.

The Observation Lounge had seven fairly large observation windows lining the aft wall of the ship. The room was slightly circular, as if it was a portion of a humongously large circle. A long, curved conference table that almost resembled the letter C, with a shiny black surface surrounded by a thick, ½ foot rosewood lining, and exactly the same symmetry as that of the shape of the lounge itself, was neatly situated near the circular concave area. Ten dark-pink fabric-lined swivel chairs with plushy rectangular-blocked headrests lined the table almost completely; eight were on each side of the table's length, and one was on each side of the table's width. On each area where a person would sit on the swivel chair was an interactive flat-paneled LCD interactive computer screen. At the end of each of the lounge's widths was a 12-foot flat panel LCD screen, each of them which was situated near a larger side of each entranceway. Relative to facing from the windowed wall was a modern-looking solid carved zigzag decoration.

Felicity immediately rushed to one of the swivel chairs the table's end nearest the entranceway the tour group was currently situated and plopped herself on it. "Mmm," she crooned, as she enjoyed the feeling of sitting on something as comfortable and plushy as that particular chair itself.

"Lissie, just what do you think you're doing?" asked Elizabeth, unable to keep herself from laughing.

"I'm enjoying myself, thank you very much," replied Felicity.

"I want to sit there, too," pointed William, as he grabbed one of the chairs that were at the outer curved side to himself.

"So do I," put in Nan, pulling up a swivel chair near the one where William was sitting.

"And I, too," added Elizabeth, as she pulled up another chair near where Felicity was.

Ben decided to take the other seat at the other end of the table. He rapped his knuckles on the shiny black surface. "This meeting will come to order, ladies and gentl_man_," he called. William and Nan were bickering over something, and the older girls were busy chatting away about how elegant the room looked. "Hey, you lot…"

"Ben…" laughed Felicity.

Troi heaved a sigh. "Uh, kids, we've got at least one more room to look at and the tour is over. And I've got to report to duty."

"Awwh," whined William, looking disappointed, as she slid off the swivel chair. Ben sighed as he slowly got up, knowing that his leadership skills when it came to presiding over meetings sucked for him. The girls got up from their swivel chairs with alacrity.

"Now _that's_ better," remarked Troi. "Spit spot. Let's go." As the children moseyed out of the lounge, Troi returned the lighting to its previous level. The automatic sliding doors closed.

"So what's this 'one more room'?" asked William.

"The Main Bridge," answered Troi.

"Is it different than the 'bridge' we've seen?"

"Yup. The bridge we're going to take a tour on is going to be a whole lot bigger."

Troi ushered the children into the main turbolift and the doors closed behind them. "Bridge," she enuncianted. A rapid-sounding rush of air was heard as the turbolift made its ascent to the _Enterprise_'s renowned command center. The tour group entered from the turbolift doors located in the middle side of the Bridge.

The Main Bridge was buzzing with activity. Capt. Picard abruptly turned around, glanced at the children briefly, and turned his eyes on Troi herself.

"Counselor, you certainly are aware that children are not allowed on the Bridge. You do know that, don't you?"

Troi heaved a sigh. "Yes, Captain, but it's just a bit of fun. Besides, I suspect our guests from time aren't going to stay on this ship forever, so we might as well give them the opportunity."

"Nevertheless…"

Troi gave to Picard a rather straight face. Felicity assisted in the matter by flashing her sweet smile.

Picard relented a little "Very well. But make sure that the children refrain from touching anything on the Bridge."

Troi sighed rather gracefully. "Thank you, Captain. Another thing. "Would it also be all right if we toured the Ready Room as well."

Picard nodded. He seemed to be in a rather dreamlike state at this point. Then he noticed that the personnel were staring intently at the children.

"Back to work, everyone," he ordered.

Followed by many an "Aye, Captain," the Bridge personnel resumed their duties.

"Stay together," whispered Troi.

The tour group first treaded carefully on the ramp area, eyeing on the glazed wooden trim of the tactical and monitoring console railing. Then they sauntered to the port section of the Bridge and made their circular turn to the helm area, and back. The children absorbed every detail with enthusiasm.

"Ssssh. This way," whispered Troi, as she led the children to the captain's Ready Room.

Even the Ready Room was fascinating to them. There was a fancy mahogany-lined table in the shape of a V at nearly 30 degrees with a shiny black surface. A fabric-lined swivel chair with a rectangular headrest was situated on the concave area of the table. A huge image of a Galaxy Class starship graced the wall near the left side of the entranceway, where a long fabric-lined seat was. At the right side of the doorway relative to facing from the Ready Room chair was a long rectangular column with a gilded model of a Constellation Class starship.

"What's this?" asked Felicity, pointing at the starship model with her right hand index finger to the point that she nearly touched it.

"Don't touch," commanded Troi.

"S-Sorry," replied Felicity meekly, as she immediately put her hand down.

"Back to answering your query, that," Troi was about to answer, "Is the _U. S. S. Constellation_, a Constellation Class starship. It's the vessel that Capt. Picard previously served aboard on."

"Did he command it?" asked William.

"For a brief moment," answered Troi. "You see, there was an accident taking place on board, which resulted in the otherwise untimely death of its previous Captain. Picard had the gall to take command of the ship, and he did."

"How heroic of him," remarked Elizabeth in a rather dreamy manner.

Troi allowed the children to mesmerize the Ready Room for a seemingly long moment.

"Ready to go?" she asked the children gently. With a nod they turned to leave the room.

When the tour group emerged from the room, the Bridge personnel were staring at them again. Picard sighed.

"Well, what do you say, children?" Troi asked sweetly.

A chorus of "Thank you, Captain," emanating at random times came from the children's mouths.

"A pleasure," said Picard in a rather curt but at the same time gracious manner. With a wave of goodbye the children followed Troi into the main turbolift. Picard heaved a sigh.

* * *

The descriptions of some of the rooms in the _Enterprise_ are for the most part based on some the imagery taken from various sources, including . They are also based on some information regarding the schematics of the _Enterprise_.


	17. Chapter 17

_**Star Trek: The Next Generation – Souvenirs**_

**Written By:**_** Commander Cody CC-2224**_

CHAPTER 17

The grand tour of the _U.S.S. Enterprise_ was over. The children are back in the guest quarters of Room 0313. The girls took off their cloaks as Ben plopped himself on the middle side of the bed to stretch his legs up. William immediately set to work on making a cylindrical tower using the checker pieces.

Elizabeth was anxious to talk about her friend's affair with Ben in Ten-Forward. She approached Felicity as fast as she could at a moderate speed.

"Lissie, may I have a private word with you?" she asked quietly.

Felicity slowly faced her friend in a solemn manner. "Why?" she asked.

Elizabeth leaned close to Felicity's head and whispered in her ear. "It concerns you and Ben," she whispered.

Felicity felt a surge of embarrassment creeping over her face. She also felt kind of worried, too. _Did Elizabeth know about what Ben and I did in Ten-Forward the night before?_ she thought to herself.

"Come on, Lissie," said Elizabeth, as she dragged her friend by her hand. Both girls were about to mosey to the bathroom. Felicity turned to Ben.

"Ben, can you keep an eye on them?" she asked him. He nodded silently.

Nan was rather curious as to what the older girls were up to. "What are you and Elizabeth doing?" she asked her older sister.

"We're going to have a word in private with each other," replied Felicity. "No eavesdropping, both of you."

The girls stepped into the bathroom, shut the door, and locked it. The girls seated themselves on the side of the bathtub, directly on the thick rim.

"The barman told me that you literally _kissed_ Ben," Elizabeth said to her friend quietly. "Even Ben heard it as well."

Felicity was utterly dismayed. Her right hand was on her agape mouth. "You don't say!" she exclaimed. "Did he really?"

Elizabeth nodded, beaming.

Felicity sighed crossly. "Oh, wait until get my hands on that man! If he thinks he can get away with giving away our most intimate secrets for all the world to hear…"

"Lissie, calm down," said Elizabeth. "The barman was not obliged to keep such an affair a secret. Besides, there is no harm done, aside from having a few of the people in Ten-Forward. Whatever people were there in that place were there already saw you kissing anyway."

Felicity sighed. "You're probably right, as usual, Elizabeth."

Elizabeth nodded. Then she proceeded to the matter of the kissing part.

"Anyway, how did you kiss Ben?" she whispered slightly. "With a closed mouth or with an open mouth?"

"Closed," replied Felicity. "I wasn't ready for any further kissing experiences. Our lips touched each other's tenderly."

"Aye, 'tis always good to start out with the mild form. Going excessive may not be a good idea, especially for your age."

"I'm glad Father and Mother are not hearing about it," said Felicity.

Elizabeth wasn't sure she could approve of her friend's wrongdoing when it came to romantic affairs.

"…But then Ben was the first to realize that 'twas wrong for us to do something like that," Felicity remarked finally. "So as a result we had to kissing."

Elizabeth nodded lightly. "How did the kiss feel?" she asked.

"Heavenly," replied Felicity dreamily. "I so wish I could do it again. But I think Ben would disapprove. And perhaps I, too. We're too young for this sort of thing."

"Aye, tis true," concurred Elizabeth. "This subject is so scandalous that we're forced to discuss this behind closed doors."

"I just hope nobody aside from Ben and Nan have heard us," said Felicity, looking slightly worried.

But it so turned out that Nan and William _were_ actually eavesdropping on the older girls' conversation.

"Lissie kissed Ben?" asked a dismayed William in a whisper.

"Aye, Lissie must be so in love with him," agreed Nan, as she smiled mischievously at her younger brother. Then she made a rather squeamish face. "'Tis most improper."

The older girls were still engaged in discussion in the bathroom.

"Nan knows this?" asked a shocked Elizabeth, her right hand on her chest.

"She had a brief discussion with me yesterday night."

"Must be quite a fascinating topic for her," remarked Elizabeth wryly.

Suddenly a thought came to Felicity. "Oh, I just remembered! Ben said he wanted to visit this place called the 'Phaser Range', and I'm just as anxious as he is to try the place out!"

Elizabeth laughed. "Lissie, since when did you start getting interested with such things?"

"I don't know, Elizabeth. Something tells me that it's going to be exciting, and I want to be a part of it. He also told me to remind him about it, which is exactly what I'm going to do!"

Felicity immediately got up from the bathtub rim and rushed out of the bathroom. She found Ben with his back turned on her, but was too excited to suspect.

"Ben!" exclaimed Felicity. "Mr. O'Brien just mentioned a place called the 'Phaser Range', which you said you wanted to try out for yourself after the tour."

"Aye," replied Ben, unable to keep his eyes off whatever he was looking at. Felicity peered at the thing and was taken aback.

"You're staring at another unseemly article again?" squeaked Felicity. "Shame on you, Benjamin Davidson!" She grabbed the article and glanced it. To her horror she found it was another Playboy magazine.

"You, Felicity Merriman, are a complete annoyance! Why do you have to be so mean to me like that?"

"These images are unseemly. You'll corrupt your mind, which will make you act more like an animal than a gentleman."

"What are you? The arbiter of good and evil?"

Felicity did not answer. In a rather cross sigh Ben grabbed the magazine back, went off in a huff to the closet and dumped the magazine into the safe box.

"I take it that you suspect Lieutenant Corbin did that?"

"'Tis my first inclination," replied Felicity, shaking her head. "This is the second time indecent material is being snuck into our room."

"Wait for the third. I suspect this thing is occurring far more frequently than it should."

It took a few moments for Ben to clear his mind. "So…" he began. "…The Phaser Range."

"You said you wanted to visit that place. May I come with you?"

Ben thought for a moment. "Hmm…I don't see any harm in letting you come. But I imagine that most of the equipment in such a place is going to be under heavy supervision, so you'll have to follow the rules."

Felicity agreed.

"I can stay with Nan and William if you want, Lissie," said Elizabeth. "They seem to enjoy having me around; I feel like an older sister, which I've never felt before when Annabelle kept bossing me around."

"That's remarkable news," declared Ben.

"Thank you, Elizabeth," said Felicity, as she beamed at her friend.

"You're welcome. You and Ben enjoy each other and have a good time. But mind that you keep track of the time because Mr. O'Brien will take us to the place called the "Holodeck 5'."

"We will," replied Felicity. "Bye, everyone."

"Bye," called Nan and William. Elizabeth waved them off as the two left the room.

Elizabeth approached the checkers game and took a few of the pieces that were left out of the game itself.

"Did Lissie kiss Ben?" asked William.

"William, hush with such talk!" exclaimed Elizabeth, almost laughing. "You're far too young to know that."

* * *

Sorry the previous 3 chapters took so long. It takes an awful lot of time and research to formulate a detailed story.

I hope the dialogue wasn't too lame.


	18. Chapter 18

_**Star Trek: The Next Generation – Souvenirs**_

**Written By:**_** Commander Cody CC-2224**_

CHAPTER 18

_U.S.S. Enterprise (NCC-1701-D)_

1136 hours…

"Fzeeeeeehw!"

"Fzeeeeeehw!"

Two high-level energy beam discharges impacted directly at a slow-moving target in the form of a shiny, metallic ball with solid polka-dots.

The energy beams emanated directly from two Type II Phaser weapons that both Felicity and Ben were holding in their right hands, as they toyed with them in the Phaser Range on Deck 12. They were futuristic ray guns shaped almost in the form of a banana. Both children were under the supervision of an ensign in yellow uniform.

"Wow," remarked Ben in profound awe. He was at Felicity's right side.

"This is so…unusual," put in Felicity, almost laughing involuntarily to herself. Out of thoughtless curiosity she started tampering with the little solid beam settings buttons when the ensign stopped her.

"Uh-uh-uh. Don't you ever think of touching those settings, unless you want to blow the whole joint up."

_Oh no, I'm caught,_ thought Felicity, sourly disappointed. Then she awoke and turned to the ensign in a fit of fright. "What do you mean, 'blow the whole joint up'?"

"It means that this little baby can literally overload and blast the entire vessel to kingdom come. Yeah, quite literally, this weapon has the power to generate an energy beam discharge of over 150 megahertz; almost enough to literally fry stuff up. Well, most likely not this entire ship; it isn't powerful enough for that purpose. But you can't be too careful." Phaser overloads were highly dangerous, warranting complete evacuation of a vessel if one was found on board a ship; though Felicity did not understand this.

"Aye, sir," replied Felicity, in a rather solemn manner. She turned her back on the ensign and took a good long glance at the futuristic ray gun.

"This 'Phaser', or whatever you call it, looks very much like a banana, don't you think?"

Ben glanced at the weapon as well. "Aye, it does," replied Ben tactfully. "Does indeed."

"Hmm," put in Felicity. "Maybe I should call this the Bananabelle Phaser." She burst into an almost uncontrollable fit of giggles.

"You're so funny, Lissie," remarked Ben, almost laughing to himself.

The sound of giggly laughter was approaching the room from outside. Who should it be but Elizabeth, Nan, and William, followed by Miles O'Brien.

"Oh, very funny, Lissie," declared Elizabeth, beaming at her best friend, as she laughed.

Little Nan noticed the ray gun that her older sister was holding. "Ooh, Lissie, what's that?" she asked excitedly. "Can I hold it"

"This is a 'Phaser'. You'll have to ask the man in yellow uniform first."

Nan turned to the ensign. "Can I try that thing Lissie and Ben are holding?" she asked coyly.

The ensign looked rather quizzically at her. "Who the hell is Lissie?"

Nan pointed to her older sister in exasperation.

"Oh?"

Nan nodded.

"Oh, the Phaser, you mean? Sorry, girl, you're too young to handle such a dangerous weapon like that. Could kill yourself."

At the sound of that Nan shrank back. O'Brien stepped into the scene. "Mr. O'Brien, what does that thing do?" she asked in an almost straightforward stream of uninterrupted voice.

"Well," replied O'Brien, scratching his head rather skeptically, "That weapon can shoot off a single beam discharge with stunning accuracy. It's what I would appropriately call your first ray gun."

"I wanna handle one," piped up William.

"You're too young, Will," replied O'Brien.

Suddenly Nan noticed her older sister firing the phaser weapon. Felicity missed her target. As if it was not enough, Nan started criticizing her.

"Lissie, 'tis most improper for a gentlewoman to fire guns!" she protested.

"Oh, don't be silly, Nan," replied Felicity in exasperation. "What's wrong with having a little fun?"

Another discharge fired from Ben's phaser. The beam impacted smack in the middle of the target ball, which followed in a light explosion.

"For starters, that isn't so bad," remarked O'Brien wondrously. Nan and William looked pretty shocked at the sight. Elizabeth had her right hand on her chest when she took notice of the effect.

"Hey, save some for me," complained Felicity.

Another target ball appeared at the end of the range. Felicity fired another discharge from the phaser. The beam impacted directly on the ball, and had the same light explosive effect.

"Lissie got one! Lissie got one!" exclaimed Nan. Felicity turned around and put her fists to her hips as a seeming gesture of superiority. Elizabeth shrugged a little, and Ben turned his head around to the very left direction.

"Oh, my goodness. What are you? Super Lady?" asked O'Brien.

"She sure looks like one," remarked the ensign, shrugging his shoulders. "And even acts like one."

"That seems to be the Lissie that we know," put in Ben.

"Hmm."

Suddenly something dawned on O'Brien. "Computer, what time is it?" he inquired.

"IT IS NOW ELEVEN THIRTY-SIX HOURS."

"About time we started on our little holodeck visit," O'Brien announced rather wryly.

* * *

"Where are we going?" asked Felicity, as O'Brien and the children were traversing through the corridors of the saucer section of Deck 12.

"Holodeck 5. It's one of these so-called 'virtual rooms' almost next door near your guest quarters."

"Next door?" asked Ben incredulously.

"Well, not exactly next door," replied O'Brien. "It's on the aft part of the saucer section. Your quarters is on the starboard side."

"Whoa," replied Ben in wide-eyed wonder.

"This way, everyone," announced O'Brien, as he pointed to the main turbolift." He and the children immediately stepped inside, and the sliding doors shut themselves completely.

"Deck Ten," enunciated O'Brien.

The turbolift made its ascent and the sound of rushing air could be heard.

"So what's our little adventure going to be about?" inquired Felicity.

"Oh, it's from a little holoprogram that a friend of mine was generous enough to lend us for the time being," replied O'Brien. "It's called, quite frankly, "An Exciting Adventure On The Enterprise-D".

"Can I see it?" asked Felicity.

"Well, you're not going to see the program itself as of yet, but you can see the little device that stores it," answered O'Brien, as he fumbled out a small 1-inch device that looked very much like a regular 20th century computer chip. The children's reactions were one of shock and awe.

"Oh, my," gasped Elizabeth in awe.

"It's…remarkably unusual technology," put in Ben.

"It looks awful pretty," added Nan innocently, as she had no clue as to the significance of that little device.

"Where, where, can I see it?" piped up William.

The turbolift stopped and O'Brien herded the children out.

"Right here," answered O'Brien, holding the chip out in the palm of his right hand in plain sight for William to see. William, being quite a toddler, could only bug his eyes out in extravagant wonder.

"Right then. Let's not dawdle anymore folks, for time is unfortunately short." O'Brien led the way and the children followed behind him.

"Pray, who lent it to you?" inquired Elizabeth.

"Oh, who? Yeah, a strapping, handsome young Starfleet lieutenant by the name of Keswick."

"What does he look like?"

"He's the good-looking guy with handsome brown hair and dark brown eyes that encompasses his head. Almost like the average Joe."

Elizabeth suddenly remembered seeing him at Ten-Forward ogling intently at her.

"When I visited his quarters to obtain that little holoprogram chip, he told me that he saw you a few hours ago while you and your escort were ordering breakfast at the counter."

"Oh, my goodness!" exclaimed Elizabeth, almost excitedly. "You say he actually takes a fancy to me?"

"Yup."

Elizabeth placed her right hand on her mouth. Then she regained her composure. "But I haven't even got to know him. How can that be?"

"My dear, almost anything's possible in this particular universe, especially in a horrendously fascinating place like this."

Elizabeth thought for a moment. "How old is he?" she inquired further.

"Fourteen."

"Fourteen?" she squeaked. She lowered her voice, so as not to attract unnecessary attention on deck. "B-But that seems just awfully so young, even for a fourteen-year-old boy!"

"You're forgetting one thing, Miss Cole," replied O'Brien, almost chuckling to himself at the discussion of this affair. "Not everybody on this ship is completely human like the rest of you chaps are."

"Pray, what do you mean?"

"Keswick…is actually a pure El-Aurian."

"Like that Guinan lady?" asked Ben.

"Precisely. At a very early age, El-Aurians can learn things twice as fast than ordinary human beings."

"A lieutenant…at a very young age…" remarked Ben, who seemed to understand the significance of the rank. "Could that possibly be responsible for his promotion?"

"One would think so, yes, given his remarkable photographic memory, as well as his outstanding work ethic."

"Oh, my goodness," said Felicity, heaving a heavy, almost euphoric sigh.

A few seconds later the entrance sliding doors to Holodeck 5 slide wide open and the group emerged into the virtual room, with the entrance doors closing in behind them.

As with any other holodeck, the entire room was nothing but a large square room, almost the size of a basketball court. The room itself was bedecked with a hologrid, which comprised of golden-yellow lines crisscrossed and interwoven in an exceptionally neat pattern. At present the little group was standing under a modern-looking archway, with a touch-screen LCD and a fair number of touch-buttons that were linked to the holodeck computer system. The children especially were quite awed to the point of almost getting disoriented.

"Hey, that's room that we got…" piped up Nan, remembering the very room that the children were taken when they were abducted by the Corellians.

"Hush, Nan!" chided Felicity in a whispering tone of voice, almost coming to the realization of what her younger sister was beginning to talk about. "We don't want to have to answer a lot of intrusive questions about this affair. Not now."

"Sorry, Lissie," replied Nan meekly.

The children looked on as O'Brien inserted the chip into the hard drive section of the right side of the holodeck's archway computer relative to the holodeck entranceway. Then he inputted a few settings with a light piano-player-like manner and the program was online.

In a few seconds a virtual surrounding that completely resembled the _Enterprise-D_ main bridge gradually came to life, much to the children's astonishment. They felt as if they had been transported to another world.

"…Which should be exactly how you should feel," said O'Brien in answering similar comments regarding the transportation to fantasia. Ben, Felicity, and Elizabeth turned around to notice the entrance doors disappearing completely like magic. Though the rest of the children were fascinated with the surroundings, Elizabeth was slightly worried about finding a way out, as she was not a particularly brave soul when it came to traversing the futuristic unknown.

"Mr. O'Brien, will there be way out of this room is we ask for it?"

"Quite so, dearie," he replied. He noticed that Elizabeth's blue eyes were troubled, so he leaned over and faced her squarely without being too discourteous.

"I'm always here in case something goes wrong in this holodeck, all right, Miss? So don't fret so." He gave a smile of reassurance and Elizabeth slowly smiled back.

"Aye, good sir."

"Can we touch stuff?" piped up William.

"'Course you can."

"Really?" asked Felicity excitedly.

"Yeah. Sad to say this ain't the real bridge, but you'll get a real feel of what it's like to…_captain_ the _Enterprise-D_."

"Let's go, Elizabeth," said Felicity, grabbing her friend's left hand.

The children literally feasted their hungry eyes. Felicity and Elizabeth took a very thorough tour de force of the bridge itself. Ben touched random buttons here and there on the tactical analysis and security station console. Nan was staring intently at the little "Christmas tree lights" buttons on the helm console from the front, while William, who was where his second oldest sister was, was playfully hitting the dashboard with both his little hands.

The bridge really did resemble the genuine bridge of the _Enterprise_ itself. It was 100 percent accurate on every nitpicking little detail, from the onboard computers to the leather of the seats and the choice of carpeting. Everything, that is; save for the helm consoles, which O'Brien was pretty much quick to point out.

"…Yeah, they're a tad inaccurate, those consoles."

"Was that unintended?" asked Felicity?"

"Was that deliberate?" asked Ben.

"Ben, stop being judgmental!" scolded Felicity. Ben sighed.

"Well, as regards to inadvertency and deliberation on the accuracy of those consoles, it seems that the inaccuracy was intended, for expediency reasons when it comes to entertainment. You see, we have kids on board who try out this program as well."

"Swell," remarked Ben in awe.

Felicity started stroking the captain's chair in a loving manner. O'Brien noticed this.

"You must love that seat so much," he remarked. Felicity turned abruptly.

"I-I…" she stammered, as if she had been caught off-guard. "Well…you know…I just wanted to get a feel as to what 'tis like in the captain's chair."

"Well," replied O'Brien in a rather wry manner. "Just because you get to sit in a captain's chair doesn't necessarily mean you get to be the captain of the starship."

Nan perked her head up from the front of the helm console. "Lissie wants to be captain?" she squeaked. Felicity heaved a very heavy sigh at Nan's rants about what a gentlewoman may or may not do. "But…'tis most improper for gentlewomen to…"

"Not in this day and age," interrupted O'Brien. "Just let her, Nan Merriman."

Felicity seated herself carefully on the leather seat, patted the skirts of her cream-colored gown, and smoothed over its soft, light tan leather lining. Seconds later, which to Felicity, was almost like minutes, given that she was busy mesmerizing over the wonders of that leather chair, O'Brien stroked the left arm of the captain's chair as well. Ben stepped away from the security console and decided to try out the counselor's chair on the left side of the captain's chair.

"Semi-aniline leather," remarked O'Brien quietly. "Just like the ones they had on the Lexus automobiles of old."

Ben perked his head up from the tactical console as if he heard O'Brien's voice. "What's a Lexus?" he asked him rather inquisitively.

"Never mind," replied O'Brien curtly.

"No, no, please…"

O'Brien raised his right hand in a gesture that indicated that he wanted Ben to just simply shut up. "Now, shall we get on with our _Enterprise_?" The term Enterprise was a play on words of the name of the starship, as well as the term that defined a type of daring venture.

The children looked at him in agreement. Then O'Brien situated himself at the very front of the bridge, almost near the middle of the view-screen, but at a fairly close distance between the helm and NAV consoles.

"Right, then. Miss Nan," he said, pointing at her. "you'll be our lovely helmslady, You're assigned the helm console." He immediately pointed at the helm area. Nan gracefully took the role, as well as the seat.

"Will," he announced, pointing at him. "you'll go the navigator's console, which currently, in this holoprogram, has been changed to meet operations of the onboard weapons systems." After pointing out the NAV console, William dashed to that particular area.

"What does that mean?" asked William.

"It means that you get to be gunner."

"How do we fit in?" asked Nan. William was quite clueless as to how to fit himself to the chair.

O'Brien decided to give a little lesson regarding the consoles. He faced Felicity. "Miss Merriman, do you know how a Windsor writing chair works?"

Felicity perked her head up. "Aye, I do. I've used one when I was practicing my writing skills. You slide the little table away on your right, seat yourself, close the table, and start writing away."

"Yup. The same one that Thomas Jefferson used when he was writing out his draft for…" He was about to say that the draft was for the Declaration of Independence, but immediately stopped himself short, as if knew that any information on the Declaration would violate the Temporal Prime Directive. "…Never mind. Anyway, on board every Galaxy Class starship, the consoles in the both helm and NAV area work the same way as that particular chair that Miss Merriman was gracious enough to describe for us. So…if I may give just a wee demonstration…"

The helm console was supported by one leg lined with a glowing light blue lamp on its back side, and was attached to the console on the left side. O'Brien proceeded to the helm area and swung the console in a counterclockwise direction, at about a 90 degree angle from its original position, seated himself, and swung it back to its original position.

"…And that's how you do it. Here. Try." He swung the console away and beckoned Nan to get herself seated onto the helm's chair. Then he swung the console back so Nan could make full use of it.

William managed to swing the NAV console in a clockwise direction, since the console's support leg was on the right side. After swinging it just enough to make room for his fitting in, he managed to get himself seated on the navigator's seat (or rather, the gunner's seat), but seemed to have difficulty trying to pull the console back to him, since his little body was quite short and he had difficulty reaching it. O'Brien personally intervened on his behalf by pushing the console toward him.

Felicity was getting to be quite ambitious. "Wait!" she cried, as she stood up from the captain's chair.

"What now, Miss?"

"Can I be captain?" She grinned an impish grin.

O'Brien looked at her rather skeptically.

"You?" laughed Ben. "Lissie, you're only just a girl."

"This is a different timeline, is it not?" challenged Felicity indignantly. "All right, I'm too young to be in command of a grandiose ship like this, but right now, all this is a fantasy. Can't I just give it a try? Please?" Her pleading only attracted the skeptical faces of her friends and siblings, especially O'Brien, much to his humor. Then she changed her face to reflect a demeanor that hinted a serious determination to disregard convention. "Or are you all so plain prejudiced about the very idea of girls in command of ships?"

Everyone was rather silent this time, save for Ben, who decided to break the silence itself.

"Well," put in Ben a little reluctantly, "Put it this way. You're probably just a bit of a girl."

This was a term that Felicity disliked almost immensely, because it implied personal impotence on her part. She winced and scowled at Ben.

"Don't ever call me that, Benjamin Davidson! 'Bit of a girl', indeed! I'm just as capable a young lady as the rest of you put together!"

Silence surrounded the bridge. Nan looked at her sister intently, and Felicity stared back at her, already thinking to herself how Nan was already saying to herself, "'Tis most improper…'tis most improper…". Elizabeth stared at her friend with a sense of admiration.

"The very first stages of feminism," remarked O'Brien quietly.

Ben couldn't help smiling lightly to himself at what Felicity was doing. Her outgoing manner was already making a point among her siblings and friends. He found it rather hard to refuse her. After keeping a straight face, and gradually forcing a smile on himself, he said, "As your younger sister is going to keep touting, it just doesn't seem proper. But all right, Lissie. Let's see what you can do."

Felicity beamed at him for what seemed almost an eternity. Then she sat back in the captain's chair, breathing a rather hedonistic sigh of relief.

But one more matter was yet to be settled. "Uh, Lissie?"

"Hmm?"

"If you're going to play captain of the starship, may I get to be First Officer?"

Felicity looked at him and gave a demure smile. "Aye," she whispered.

Now it was Elizabeth's turn. "What do I do?" she asked coyly.

O'Brien turned his head to face her. "Oh, you. Yeah. You'll be, uh, "Captain" Merriman's comm officer."

Elizabeth was very much confused. "Comm" officer?" she asked rather hesitantly.

"In charge of ship-to-ship communications. You'll be the captain's hailer. So there's your station," he said, as he pointed his right hand index finger at the security console as he made his approach to it. Elizabeth daintily approached the security station on top of the bridge ramp. O'Brien took the time to give a brief tutoring to Elizabeth on which touch-buttons to press to open a channel to the _Enterprise_.

"That's pretty much all you'll need to concern yourself with. And when you receive hailing frequencies, that is, calls from the unknown, your basic punch line will be 'Captain, we are being hailed.'"

"Captain, we are being hailed," recited Elizabeth as sweetly as she could.

"Right."

O'Brien then turned to Felicity. "Just as a reminder, 'Captain' Merriman, Miss Elizabeth Cole has agreed to be your comm officer."

"Really?" asked Felicity, abruptly turning her head to her friend in disbelief.

Elizabeth nodded somewhat mischievously. "Mm-hmm," she said quite proudly.

O'Brien put up his hand to indicate silence. "When you hear her say, 'We are being hailed,'" he continued on, "Your basic punch line will be 'On screen.'"

"Why, pray tell?" asked Felicity.

"Because whoever is attempting to gain communication of the _Enterprise_ is going to have his or her pretty face displayed right on the view-screen for all posterity. You'll see how that's done when that happens."

Felicity gave a rather dubious nod and started looking around from the view of the captain's chair.

"Now, what?" she said, with her inflection descending.

"Well, we first need to pilot this behemoth out of its stable."

"Hanger would be the appropriate term, Mr. Davidson," said O'Brien in a rather curt manner.

"All right, 'hangar' then." Ben turned to Felicity. "Try ordering the helm to pilot this vessel out of the 'hangar', 'Captain' Merriman."

"If you wish, 'Mr. Davidson,'" replied Felicity graciously. She faced her younger sister seated at the helm in front of her, who was busy staring at the helm consoles.

"Nan," announced Felicity. "Please take us out of the hangar."

Poor Nan was at odds to know how to pilot the _Enterprise_ itself. She immediately turned her head to her right direction to her older sister, who was already seated on the captain's chair. "How?" she asked innocently.

O'Brien intervened on her behalf as he approached the helm control and showed Nan the basic controls: steering and thrusters. Nan daintily pressed a touch-button on the helm console and the engine switched on. Everyone on the bridge could literally hear the engine sounds rush across the bridge. O'Brien walked away from the helm console, stood at his post in a relaxed but fairly alert manner near the first officer's chair, and turned to Felicity, waving an approving nod for her to issue the order for "Go."

"Computer, activate view-screen," enunciated O'Brien. The view screen immediately switched on, revealing a fairly lit, bluish surrounding of the Space Dock interior. The port gates, which seemed so small from a distance of a few hundred meters, were sealed shut.

Felicity breathed a sigh of relief in exasperation. "Now please take us out, will you, Nan?" she ordered with composure.

O'Brien cut her off. "Miss Merriman, Starfleet protocol requires asking the dock-master for permission to depart from the hangar.

"Why?" asked Felicity.

"Space traffic control. It's to allay the possibility of other starships bumping into each other and making a ghastly mess, thus fouling up an otherwise normal situation."

"Oh," said Felicity. "How do I do this?"

"Ask Miss Cole to open a channel to the dock-master."

Felicity faced her friend again. "Elizabeth, please get me the dock-master."

Elizabeth made a hand gesture indicating ignorance as to what to do, prompting O'Brien to assist her with opening the comm channel. Elizabeth daintily pressed something on the console and an audible beep was finally heard.

"Channel open, Felicity."

Felicity spoke out in a clear voice. "This is "Captain" Felicity Merriman of the space ship _Enterprise_. We request permission to depart."

The dock-master's dulcet female voice blared on the bridge's PA systems. "This is Control, _Enterprise_. Permission to depart granted. Thirty seconds for port gates."

On the view-screen two sliding doors opened wide. The way was now clear for the _Enterprise_ to depart from the Federation Space Dock.

"Weighing port gates off this mark," said O'Brien.

"All ranks clear," blared the Control Tower PA.

"Finally! Now you can take us out, Nan!" exclaimed Felicity in an elated manner.

"Engage the aft thrusters," ordered O'Brien.

Nan started to become rather hesitant. Not that she didn't know where the thruster controls were, but rather the settings.

"I'm afraid I'm going to crash the ship, Lissie," she said quite fearfully. "How fast should I go?"

Felicity was unable to give an answer, indicated by a gesture out outspread hands that indicated ignorance. She immediately turned her head to O'Brien while seated.

"Starfleet protocols require ships to maintain one-quarter impulse power while in Space Dock."

Felicity turned back her head to the front of the view-screen, and at the same time, facing her younger sister. "Nan, go to one-quarter impulse power," she ordered.

"How?" Nan asked again.

O'Brien twiddled his right hand index finger at the helm area. "Tap the forward arrow touch-button until the entire ship starts moving. I will tell you to stop tapping until the desired speed limit within this dock is reached."

Nan glanced at the basic four direction buttons: Forward Key, Backward Key, Right Key, and Left Key. She tapped daintily on the left button, but nothing happened. She tried the right button, but nothing happened either. That left only two keys to try out. However, being unable to distinguish the difference between the forward arrow and the backward arrow, she tried the backward arrow. The _Enterprise_ started moving slowly in a backward direction. And Felicity could notice it on the view-screen.

"Nan, we're going backward instead of forward," she informed exasperatingly.

Feeling slightly vexed, Nan tried the forward button and kept tapping it daintily in a moderately rapid manner. The _Enterprise_ slowly ground to a halt and slowly picked up speed in the forward direction. She kept tapping the forward arrow key until O'Brien told her to stop.

"You may stop tapping, helms-lady," said O'Brien. "As we have no reached one-quarter impulse power."

The children enjoyed the thrill of the ride as they slowly noticed the opened port gates gradually getting bigger. However, they all started to gradually take notice of the _Enterprise_ slowly merging to the port direction.

"Captain, order your helms-lady to go to starboard."

Felicity was quite clueless as to what 'starboard' was, but it was where O'Brien wanted the ship to go in or to avoid crashing into the port walls of the Space Dock interior. But she couldn't resist asking. "What's starboard?" she asked, as she turned to face O'Brien.

"Right of the ship. Port is left."

"Right." She faced back to her younger sister. "Nan, go to starboard," she ordered.

"What's starboard?" asked Nan.

O'Brien attempted to intervene. So did Ben, but in his own way. He managed to absorb just a mere handful of modern aviation terminology during the _Enterprise_ tour.

"Computer, engage autopilot maneuvers…"

"Computer, belay that order!" interrupted O'Brien, as he attempted to assist Nan. Finally everyone could notice the ship slowly merging to the starboard side, thus avoiding what might have been an imminent side collision on the port walls. "Starboard is right, port is left," O'Brien quietly informed the little girl. "Can you remember that?"

Nan nodded as she faced him. O'Brien then looked up and breathed a sigh of relief as the ship slowly sped in a straight direction to the port gates.

All watched as the _Enterprise_ slowly emerged from the Space Dock. The ship was finally out in open space, and Ben was very much anxious to get an answer from O'Brien regarding the cancellation of his autopilot order.

"I-I don't get it, Mr. O'Brien," said Ben. "Why did you cancel my order to the computer to engage autopilot?"

"Autopilot is intended only for specific, given directions," replied O'Brien. "It's not intended or designed to bring ships to the right track on their own, like an automaton. Had you engaged the auto-pilot, the _Enterprise_ would have collided into the hangar walls, long before the helms-lady could react in time."

The _Enterprise_ was already moving away from Space Dock and traversing out in the open.

"Now you can switch to full impulse power, helms-lady," called O'Brien.

"How?" Nan asked for a third time.

"Hold the forward arrow key."

Nan did exactly as she was told until the _Enterprise_ gained more speed. The ship was no soaring across the wide-open space.

"Okay," said O'Brien. "You'll be having another interesting exciting activity. In this holoprogram, a Cardassian battle cruiser is engaged on an assault against the Klingon homeworld, which is about 50 light years away from our current position. So we're going to prep the engines for maximum warp." He immediately went over to the analysis consoles and inquired the chief engineer on the comm about the status of the warp engines.

"Chief engineer says that the warp engines are good to go. As the procedures for setting course, heading, and warp factor are quite complex, I'll be the one to set them, so don't you little mites bother too much."

O'Brien first moseyed to the NAV console and clicked a series of touch-buttons for the course and heading. Then he went to the helm, set the warp factor, and engaged the engines. The _Enterprise_ was now at warp factor 9. The children mesmerized the long white dashes slowly traversing past the view-screen. A fairly mild vibration followed.

"WHOAAAAAAAAAA!"

"ETA, six minutes."

"What's ETA?" asked William.

"Estimated Time of Arrival."

"What is this?" asked Felicity, staring at the view-screen.

"Warp speed, basically," answered O'Brien. "Specifically, warp factor 9. That's near maximum."

"I'll say," remarked Ben.

"Clueless, as usual," declared O'Brien.

"I'm not clueless!" retorted Ben.

"Well, you kind of sound clueless in your initial statement."

Ben was getting rather skeptical of the vibration being associated with the white lines, since he felt no vibration like that when he was in Ten-Forward. "Is this…_vibration_…supposed to occur in reality?" he asked.

"No, this is for embellishment," replied O'Brien. "On the real ship, however, the inertial dampers stabilize everything, so no vibration like that is present."

Despite the vibration Felicity turned her head in the right side direction to her friend. "Well, Elizabeth, what do you think?"

"'Tis, um, exciting. Frightening too, mayhap."

"Mayhap you don't seem to be the type of adventures like this," remarked Felicity, as she relaxed into the captain's chair.

"I guess…" replied Elizabeth, as her voice trailed off.

After a few minutes had passed for what seemed to Felicity almost an eternity, O'Brien went to the helm again and used the controls to drop the ship out of warp. On the view-screen the long white dashes completely disappeared, indicating visually that the ship was now at full impulse power only. The vibration now stopped.

The view-screen revealed an Earth-like planet being surrounded by Cardassian warships. Klingon Vor'Cha Class cruisers. birds-of-prey were in defense of the homeworld. There were bright particles of light firing this way and that, as if it was a major conflict.

"Here 'tis. The Klingon homeworld. In a complete state of conflict."

"Aye. Lissie, are you seeing this."

"I am."

Felicity was horrified and excited at the same time. "We're going to be engaged in some kind of space battle?" she squeaked in a rather unladylike manner.

"Right you are."

"Wow," remarked Ben. For a boy like him an event like this was worthy of his attention.

"Of course, this is just a holodeck program, so you'll have second chances if you kiddies screw up," added O'Brien. "But in a real situation like that a tactical error will prove fatal to the entire ship."

The _Enterprise_ slowly steamed to join the carnage. Seconds later a Cardassian battle cruiser with a long slender body and a thick head slowly marged toward the ship. On the bridge's security console a rapid 4-beep alarm could be heard.

"Captain, we are being hailed," declared Elizabeth, almost calmly.

"On screen," said Felicity, not knowing what it meant.

Elizabeth followed the procedure that O'Brien taught her on opening the comm. Immediately she shrank back. "You've got someone," she said.

Felicity nearly shrank back, too. Both Nan and William had their eyes bugged out. When the channel was opened, the view-screen revealed a gray-faced humanoid alien with a face filled with all sorts of protruding tentacles and lumps. His clothing armor was brownish-grayish, and his shoulders bore two black epaulettes, one on each elbow. His uniform was decorated with all sorts of ugly medals that signified his rank.

"I guess they're not that much for color," remarked Ben, trying to sound humorous in the midst of a seemingly tense situation.

The officer was immensely furious. "This is the Cardassian commander Gul'Davak! I demand that you leave these grounds immediately and stay out of this conflict!"

There was a moment of brief silence.

"That man looks awful ugly," said Nan.

"Mmm, looks like you've never seen a Cardassian before," remarked O'Brien. "My commanding officer disliked them immensely because of their duplicitous nature."

"You have ten seconds to comply!" shouted the Cardassian.

Ben turned to Felicity from the counselor's seat. "Well, Lissie, now's the time to put your outgoing negotiation skills to the test," he said.

Felicity stood up from the captain's chair. "And if I don't?" she asked quite loudly for a lady.

"You will be…destroyed!"

"Pray, what did these…whatchamacallits…do to you that merit your wrath?"

"They violated our border zones!"

"And does that justify attacking their world?"

"Yes! Yes! Now go away, or else suffer the consequences!"

"This ship is equipped with 250 photon torpedoes and 14 phaser banks," informed O'Brien, as he whispered to Felicity. "You might be able to take out this cruiser if you know how."

"I'll bet you're scheming something against me," said the Cardassian.

Felicity thought this was getting to be too much fun. She decided to throw away caution and start going blatant. "I don't intend to let their world get blown to bits," she declared rather haughtily. "You will tell your ships to withdraw from this place or else I will personally shove all 250 torpedoes down the belly of your own ship!" she concluded hotly.

"Lissie!" squeaked Elizabeth.

"'Captain' Merriman, that's 250 photon torpedoes maximum. It would be a waste to use them all against one little cruiser."

"Such impudence!" shouted the Cardassian. "I shall endeavor to first have your ship blown to dust! Prepare to be fired upon!"

The view-screen changed to the battle scene.

"Well, that concludes negotiations," remarked Ben wryly.

Suddenly Nan saw an orange particle homing on the front. "Lissie, look!" she cried.

Felicity saw it. The particle impacted below, causing a violent earthquake-like shake.

"Red alert!" ordered O'Brien. "Shields up!"

A siren-like sound blared on. On the electronic panels red lights blinked at a moderate speed.

"Scorch that ship," ordered Felicity.

"Well move you to another type of control," said O'Brien. "Computer." Beep! Beep! "Access manual steering column."

A black joystick emerged below near the front part of the helmsman's seat until it was within Nan's reach.

"Transfer helm control to manual."

"COMMAND CONFIRMED. HELM CONTROL IS TRANSFERRED TO THE MANUAL STEERING COLUMN."

"Try that one." He pointed directions for the steering column for Nan to master. "Push to go down, pull to go up, swerve right to bank right, and vice versa. Get it?" Nan nodded and clutched both hands on the controls. She pushed downwards to aim for the neck of the Cardassian cruiser. William fired phasers and photon torpedoes, some of them which had the honor of impacting on the Cardassian cruiser different random directions. Felicity could almost feel herself getting dizzy and disoriented.

"Too steep, Nan! Too steep! !" cried Felicity.

Nan banked to the right. Felicity thought it was a close call when she almost crashed the _Enterprise_.

"Huh…" breathed Felicity abruptly. Nan banked to the left for William to get another shot of the cruiser, which he did when he fired all weapons. Torpedo after torpedo impacted on the aft part of the cruiser. A Cardassian laser beam impacted on the bow.

"Shields at 95 percent," called O'Brien.

"You're going to crash, Nan!" yelled Felicity. "Pull up! Pull up!"

"AHHHHHHHHHH!"

Nan screamed in fright as she tugged and pulled at the joystick. The _Enterprise_ managed to avoid crashing again.

"Nan is such an incompetent driver," moaned Felicity.

"Miss Merriman, perhaps you could allow someone else to captain this vessel," suggested O'Brien.

"Aye, like me," said Ben.

"I thought it was 'Captain'. Besides I thought I'm in command," protested Felicity.

"Yeah, but you don't seem to know jack about what to do in certain situations," replied O'Brien.

Suddenly Ben had an idea. "Lissie, can you drive?"

"What?" exclaimed Felicity. "I don't think I can drive this thing!"

"You're able to ride and drive Penny. Why not this blasted vessel?"

"Because riding and driving Penny and actually trying to pilot this behemoth are two different things!"

Ben simply shrugged. Another Cardassian disruptor particle impacted on the _Enterprise_.

"Shields at 80 percent," called O'Brien again.

"W-What do I do?" cried Elizabeth.

Felicity got exasperated. "Oh, fine, then! If I must, I must." She immediately got up from the captain's chair and approached the helm. "I'll take over from here, Nan."

"She's all yours, Lissie," replied her older sister, as she pushed away the console and jumped off her seat. Felicity immediately sat on and pulled the console to herself."

"Not entirely. Ben's now in command."

"Thanks, Lissie," called Ben.

"The joystick is a suggested means of controlling the ship at this point, Miss Merriman," informed O'Brien.

Felicity managed to test her skills at maneuvering the ship when she piloted the _Enterprise_ like a clumsy fighter jet pilot. Fortunately she managed to avoid consistently crashing the ship like what her younger sister kept doing.

"All right," said Ben. "Converge all weapons on the cruiser's bridge, if it ever has one."

"Every starship has one," said O'Brien.

"Fine. Lissie, maneuver the ship in a manner where William can get a clear shot of the bridge…"

"…Which should be located on the neck of the Cardassian cruiser," added O'Brien.

"Got it," replied Felicity. She banked right and homed the _Enterprise_ on the bow of the cruiser. William fired again until torpedoes and phaser beams impacted on the head area until it was near incinerating.

"Good shot, William!" cried Ben.

Suddenly the Cardassian cruiser released a composite laser energy beam that came in contect on the connections between the saucer and the stardrive sections of the _Enterprise_. On the bridge, an audible Beepbeepbeepbeep! was heard multiple times. O'Brien rushed to the Master Systems Display located on the central back part of the bridge and noticed a blinking red line on the division of both sections.

"Sensors indicate that the Cardassian vessel has unleashed a composite laser beam against the connections between the saucer and stardrive sections," he informed. "As a result, both parts of the ship are fused shut."

Ben turned around. "Is that bad?" he asked rapidly.

"'Twill prove to be a detriment to the _Enterprise_ herself because in the very likely event of a warp core breach the saucer section will have to be utilized for the evacuation of passengers for the stardrive section, as well as for everyone else on board."

Ben had no time to ponder the concept of "warp core breach", as the Cardassian cruiser fired another composite laser beam on the ship's starboard nacelle.

"Engines have been targeted," called O'Brien.

Suddenly the computer blared its red-alert warning. "Beepbeep! WARNING. WARP CORE BREACH IN TWO MINUTES," said the dulcet, yet firm female voice of the computer system.

Ben immediately stood from the captain's chair and faced O'Brien. "Mr. O'Brien, what happens when there is a 'warp core breach'?" he asked.

"The ship will spontaneously explode," came a rather hesitant reply.

Elizabeth abruptly glanced at both Ben and O'Brien. "Is that your expert opinion?" asked Ben again.

"I could give you a detailed explanation concerning the nature of warp core breaches, but such an explanation will go beyond your ability to comprehend, given that you haven't had any training in the engineering aspects of this ship."

Ben shrugged. "So what do we do now?"

"I suggest making a request to the computer to eject the warp core."

"All right." Ben decided to give the new request a try. "Computer, eject the warp…whatsit…" He forgot the term.

"COMMAND UNCLEAR. PLEASE REPEAT," said the computer.

"The _warp core_, Benjamin Davidson."

"Fine. Computer, eject the '_warp core_'."

There was a 1-second moment of silence from the computer before a single beep was heard.

"UNABLE TO COMPLY."

Ben sighed frustratingly. "What the blazes is wrong with the system?" he asked hotly.

"It's theoretically possible that the warp core ejection system was heavily damaged during the Cardassian attack."

Ben slapped his right hand on the right armrest of the captain's chair. Then he took his seat on the chair itself.

"If I might propose, Mr. Davidson, 'twould be prudent to evacuate all personnel off this ship. I'll open a channel to the ship."

"Very well." Before Ben could start, O'Brien clicked a series of touch-buttons on the security console and pointed his finger at Ben to enunciate the command.

Ben raised his voice for almost all to hear. "All hands, evacuate the bloody vessel!"

Now he started turning pensive for a brief moment. The time given was not enough for Ben and the rest of his comrades to get off the _Enterprise_, much less off the bridge itself. Suddenly an idea emerged from his mind, though he knew it was suicidal.

"BEEPBEEP! WARNING! WARP CORE BREACH IN SIXTY SECONDS."

Ben issued a new order for the computer. "Computer, set a collision course with the Cardassian capital cruiser." The computer emanated an audible beep as an indication of acknowledgement.

On the view-screen the Cardassian cruiser appeared from the left as the _Enterprise_ was moving to the left and homing in as the cruiser kept firing torpedoes and laser blasts. Elizabeth gasped in shock. "He wouldn't!" she cried.

"Ben, no!" yelped Felicity after she abruptly turned her face to him from her right side. "Don't you have any other alternatives?"

Ben simply shrugged. "Sorry, Lissie. We'll just have to die like heroes. Besides, this ship is getting hammered as it is by those aliens, and we don't want so much as to die without making the enemy pay for what it did to us."

"Don't you think the world already has enough dead heroes as it is?" cried Felicity. "Your actions are going to get us all killed, including everyone on board. Besides, I think this ship is still being evacuated."

"BEEPBEEP!" WARNING! WARP CORE BREACH IN THIRTY SECONDS."

Felicity was determined to belay the collision course. "Computer, cancel order for collision course…"

"Computer, belay that order!" bellowed Ben, interrupting Felicity in the process. The computer beeped in acknowledgement as Felicity scowled intensely at him. But he just simply ignored her.

"Can't be helped, little Lissie," he said. "All of us are gonna get killed on board _anyway_. If we or everyone can't escape this bloody vessel we might as well teach those aliens the cost of trying to destroy the _Enterprise_. Might as well say your prayers."

"BEEPBEEP! WARNNG! WARP CORE BREACH IN FIFTEEN SECONDS."

Elizabeth carried an indignant, troubled look on her face. "Ben," she began. Ben immediately turned his face at a moderate speed to Elizabeth herself. "Think about what you're doing," she said calmly.

"BEEPBEEP! WARNING! WARP CORE BREACH IN TEN SECONDS. NINE, EIGHT…"

Ben turned his face back abruptly to the view-screen, with the starboard side of the Cardassian cruiser homing in on them. "No time for thought, little Lizzie. The situation is completely helpless, and as I said, we're all gonna get killed anyway. Besides, I'm enjoying the moment.

"Davidson's right, Miss Cole," put O'Brien quickly. "In case you haven't noticed, warp core breaches are quite catastrophic to an entire ship."

Felicity gave a serious look to Ben and abruptly turned back to the view-screen while seated on the helmsman's chair. The _Enterprise_ was on a collision course with the Cardassian vessel. O'Brien and the children could see it getting closer by the second.

Nan was beside Felicity's right side. "Oh, no, I can't look!" she cried, as she turned around and covered her face with her hands.

William watched in shock. Felicity leaned her hands on the helm console, with a face filled with anxiety. Elizabeth watched in horror as well, but O'Brien seemed to take it rather calmly. The ship came closer and closer, until it impacted directly on the starboard side of the Cardassian vessel.

BOOM! A large explosion was heard. A series of ripping explosions followed on the bridge, and a white surrounding enveloped the entire vicinity. Then all of a sudden the holodeck program was freezed.

O'Brien could be heard heaving a sigh. "Computer, end program," he announced.

The holodeck removed the white surrounding, and the black surrounding with the yellow hologrid lines appeared. The children found themselves disoriented, and bumped onto the floor, and fallen in a heap.

"In reality, you all would have gotten killed when that happened," said O'Brien.

"Glad that wasn't reality we were dealing with," said Ben, as he and the children got up from the floor.

"That was…fun," commented Elizabeth. "And scary."

"I got scared," said Nan. "Weren't you scared too, William?" she asked her younger brother.

"Somewhat," he replied.

"How 'bout you, Lissie?"

"Well, more furious than scared, I have to say, Nan," replied Felicity, as she and the rest of her friends and siblings followed O'Brien out of Holodeck 5.

* * *

A/N: I forgot to mention that regarding two consoles on every starship, whether Federation or alien, the port console is the main helm, and the starboard console is the main navigator's. On the _Enterprise-D_, as with starships of the 2370's they can be interchanged. Shipboard functions on the bridge can be relayed to those consoles if necessary, since the interactive touch-buttons actually appear on screen like a regular computer image rather than "stick on the surface" (hope you know what I mean).

A/N (2): At first I decided to have Felicity say the line, "Ben, think about what you're doing…", but I kind of decided that Felicity isn't really that much for thought, given that in the Felicity Series books she almost always did have the tendency to act before she thinks. So I decided to have Elizabeth say that particular line because she's always known for thinking before acting, and that line kind of reflects that particular character trait.


	19. Chapter 19

_**Star Trek: The Next Generation – Souvenirs**_

**Written By:**_** Commander Cody CC-2224**_

CHAPTER 19

The children were very much glad to find themselves back on familiar ground, that is, on board the _Enterprise_. They were now in the aft part of the Deck 10 corridor, near the entrance to Holodeck 5.

"Well, kids, I do sincerely hope you enjoyed the wild ride immensely," said O'Brien.

"Exciting," replied Elizabeth, almost calmly. "And unusually wild, I might add."

"'Twas grand," said Ben, almost dizzy with a sense of excitement.

"Grand?" squawked Felicity. "Benjamin Davidson, is that all you can say? It was…"

"What else can I say?" said Ben, interrupting, almost frustratingly due to Felicity's rather snide comment. "I'm not much of a man of many words, Lissie-girl."

"'Tis not like you to be judgmental of your friends and siblings, Miss Merriman" remarked O'Brien, as he noticed an android in yellow Starfleet uniform. It was Lt. Cmdr. Data.

"Mr. Data, I haven't been expecting you this time," greeted O'Brien.

"That is correct, sir," replied Data emotionlessly. "You are wanted back in Transporter Room 2."

"And the kids?"

Data jerked his head as a sign of confusion. "Kids?" he asked rather quizzically.

"You know, children. Human beings that haven't fully matured."

Felicity shook her head as she listened to the conversation. "He really puts us in a bad light," she said.

"Lissie…" said Ben in a rather disapproving manner.

"Oh," replied Data. Then he regained his composure. "Depending if the 'children' are at 100 percent peak efficiency, I can accompany and supervise them on resuming their holodeck adventures."

O'Brien nodded in a curt manner. "Thanks, Mr. Data." He faced the children. "Gotta go, kids. I'll see you around." He turned on his heel and left.

Now it was Data's turn to get a look at the children. "Are you still feeling up to the adventure?" he asked.

"Well…" replied Felicity reluctantly. "I…I want very much to go with Ben to Ten-Forward…"

"…And spend more time together there, as Lissie seems to want so much," put in Ben.

"That's fine with me," replied Data almost considerately.

"We'd like to continue," said Elizabeth.

A long silence took place. Finally Data said, "Very well. I know just another holoprogram that Lt. Keswick can lend us. If you'll follow me, please. I can't leave you humans unattended."

Elizabeth, Nan, and William followed Data as they waved bye-bye to Felicity and Ben. They in turn waved back. "See you in Ten-Forward," called Elizabeth happily.

"Right," called Felicity back. "Nan, William, take care!"

"We will!" replied Nan. And they were off. Both Felicity and Ben were the only children left near the holodeck entranceway area/

"I say we take the same way that we came from our Guest Quarters," said Ben.

"If you say so…" replied Felicity. The duo strolled through a slightly curvy corridor in the starboard side of the saucer section, with Ben on the right and Felicity on the left.

Felicity was very much anxious to bring up the last part of the holodeck incident. "You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Benjamin Davidson. Telling the 'computer', or whatever 'tis called, to crash the ship into the enemy's ship."

"Lissie, all this was fantasy!" protested Ben. "None of it was real! Why do you have to make such a big deal of it?"

"Why?" asked Felicity hotly. "Because it concerns your conduct, Ben! Your attitude! Are you going to sacrifice your loved ones just to attain your personal glory?"

"This has nothing to do with personal glory. In a hopeless situation like that, when there is no means of escape from such a situation, when you know that certain death is only but fleeting moments away from you, you might as well make the best of it in a strategic sense by making your opponent realize that is victory is going to very much cost his own."

"And you're willing to have everyone commit suicide on account of that?" asked Felicity, nearly horrorstruck. "'It's wrong and it's senseless, Ben."

Ben shrugged. "To you, it is," he replied.

"Benjamin Davidson!" snapped Felicity irritably. "How could you be so insensitive?"

"That's just my trait, Lissie-girl."

"You ought to be ashamed of yourself, then."

"You ought to be ashamed of yourself, then," Ben said, making an attempt to mimic Felicity. He let out a rather sarcastic snort. "I'm already ashamed, Felicity Merriman," he said quite mockingly.

Felicity gave a rather hard stare at him. Ben simply heaved a heavy sigh.

"All right, Lissie," he said. "I wouldn't usually be doing such a thing unless it war a last-resort situation."

"I hope so," replied Felicity quite seriously. "Mayhap you'll do well to remember that if you join Washington's army."

"If…" said Ben rather wistfully.

Both he and Felicity continued their little stroll across the corridors.

"Well, Lissie, it seems that we have taken a tour of this entire ship, and entertained ourselves in fantasy land to our heart's content. Anything else you might consider doing before you…die?"

Felicity chuckled to herself at the humorous way Ben was presenting things. "Well," she began wistfully. "I was hoping we could spend a little time at…Ten-Forward. You know, just the two of us."

"But what about all the other interesting things that we have yet to try out for ourselves, Lissie? Outside from visiting the Phaser Range, or whatever they call it, or the holo-whatsit, I heard they have some type of store called the Replimat, where they say they can generate almost anything from nothing…"

"Ben," laughed Felicity. "You're beginning to make everything sound as if the entire place is run by gods!"

"Literally or figuratively?" asked Ben, grinning his mischievous grin.

"Well, it seems a touch of both makes the description sound quite appropriate."

"Aye, it does indeed," replied Ben. "Mayhap 'twould seem to be quite the case…if men were like gods, or to be a little more specific, if men _were_ gods."

"But we're not gods, Ben. We're mere human beings."

"Aye. We're human beings with woefully limited manpower and mindpower. That being the case, how on earth anyone is ever capable of building a machine like that is way beyond my head."

Felicity thought for a moment. A thought came to her, but it was kind of stupid, from her point of view. But she decided to speak it out just to tease Ben.

"I have the answer," she said quite loudly for Ben to hear. "Magic."

Ben could not help chuckling vigorously. "Lissie, that is the most ludicrous answer I could ever have in my life! Surely there's got to be a more rational explanation for such a contraption than just…magic."

"What about 'miracle'?"

"Well, I wouldn't put it past me if that were the case," replied Ben. "But then miracles happen quite unexpectedly, when you think you need one, but isn't coming. Believe me, I've tried the replicator, and so have you. 'Miracle'…just doesn't seem to…"

His voice trailed off. In his mind flashes of what he saw in the memory logs when he was in the Corellian science vessel swam in his mind, stirring up resentment and agitating his rebellious nature. Felicity turned her face to notice Ben's mild grimacing.

"Ben, what's wrong?" she asked, her face worry-filled.

"Huh?" asked Ben rather abruptly, as if he was rudely wakened from his daydream. "Oh, nothing, really," he replied, shrugging his shoulders.

"'Twas something," said Felicity. "Though I know not what."

"Twould be better if you didn't." Then he slapped his forehead. "You know it just dawned on me. I can't decide where else to go."

"Well if you can't seem to make up mind, Ben, I say we go to Ten-Forward," said Felicity gently.

Ben sighed. "Then Ten-Forward it is," he said simply. Both he and Felicity continued on their stroll.

* * *

The Ten-Forward lounge retained its usual low light level settings. Even around the afternoon there wasn't that much activity taking place, save for a handful of Starfleet and civilian personnel cutting themselves some slack, dining, and playing quiet games. The bartender was busy stacking syntheholic beverages in the cabinets of the bar table, the barmaid was on break, which could only be indicated by her absence at the bar, and the barman was working his midday shift. From the large observation windows the long dash lines of warp speed were traversing across, an indication that the _Enterprise_ herself was still traveling at warp factor 2.

"Well, well, well, if it ain't those twoo luvbirds," cackled the barman. "What cain I get you fulks frum taiyme?"

"Sir?" asked Ben confoundedly. He couldn't tell whether it was his heavy Southern accent or the way he was phrasing his words that was obscuring what he was actually trying to say.

"Ya know…da usual…"

Felicity was incensed at the mention of "luvbirds". _Trust the barman to give away our most intimate secrets_, she thought to herself with gritted teeth. This time she could not contain herself.

"You ought to be ashamed of yourself, giving away our little secret of what Ben and I were doing in Ten-Forward," scolded Felicity, seething.

"Hey, you didn't make me swair to keep an affair such ais yers a secret, ya know," said the barman rather nonchalantly.

Felicity put both hands on the counter and poked her face near his. The barman made a face that seemed to indicate disgust. "But you would have known…" she started, putting an accent on every word.

"Lissie," cut off Ben as he made an attempt to steady her after pulling her off the counter. "Lissie. He's right. We didn't make him swear to secrecy. We can't blame him."

"Yeah. You hold yer peace, ya fiery red-headed chit," said the barman indignantly. He nearly chuckled to himself. "She sure looks and aicts as tho' she'd set the whole joint on faiyre," he declared.

"Aye, that would tend to be the case…with her," concurred Ben.

"Now gettin' back tuh the point, whut's gonna be yer nixt meal order, if you haven't started one?" asked the barman.

Felicity regained her composure and flashed her sweet smile. "A nice bowl of English beef stew would do just fine," she said rather sweetly.

"Fine. Listed. You next, boy?"

Ben narrowed his eyes. "Did you just call me boy?" he asked, pointing his right hand finger at him.

The barman heaved a rather exasperated sigh. "Look, man, just git over da orderin'. I ain't got no taiyme fer yer particulars."

Ben took a fairly deep breath in order to keep a cool head. "Coffee. Sweetened."

"What about tea?" asked Felicity rather mischievously.

Ben grimaced. "Not after what I've been through with the tea thing," he said, shaking his head.

The barman made a final tap with his electronic pen. "Orders are listed," he said finally. "Now if you two luvbirds will just hold yer Patriotic horses until thay're completely processed…"

Felicity tittered to herself at the way the barman was saying his line. "Patriotic horses…kind of reminds me of Penny and Patriot, don't you think?"

"Aye, I believe it does…" said Ben rather dreamily.

"But how does he know we're Patriots?" asked Felicity.

"He probably assumed our differences when he noticed how I acted in contrast with the way your Loyalist friend acted," said Ben in a wry manner.

"If you're referring to my best friend, Elizabeth Cole…"

"That's right."

Felicity sensed Ben's biting manner. "Ben, there's no need for this scathing," she said. "No matter what political side we're on, we're always best friends, no matter what."

"You mean you and Lizzie?"

Felicity nodded seriously. "Aye."

Ben sighed. He was awakened when the barman announced that lunch was ready.

"Done!" called the barman.

"Guess 'tis time," said Ben sarcastically.

After a gracious "Thank you", Ben handed Felicity her beef stew and grabbed his steaming coffee dark blue mug with an etched Starfleet insignia engraved in white ceramic paint. Then they moseyed to a restaurant-style table situated in a fairly quiet area in the middle of the lounge, near the middle observation window. Relative to facing from the observation windows, Ben was on the left side of the middle of the table's length and Felicity on the right, completely line-in-line with Ben.

"Do cheer up, Ben," said Felicity, smiling rather sweetly, as she plunged her metallic silver spoon into the stew. "I hate to put it this way, but you seem rather glum."

Ben decided to feign ignorance. "Really?" he asked in a skeptical manner.

"Well, your face kind of showed it."

"Oh. Well, guess that's my involuntary nature," he said, trying to dismiss the whole glumness thing. He took a deep breath as he took a sip of the steaming coffee from the mug. He grimaced and put the cup down.

"What, you don't like it that much?" asked Felicity, as she held her spoon filled with a portion of her beef stew.

"'Tis hot," said Ben emphatically.

"Then mayhap you should wait for it to cool off a bit before you keep burning your tongue," said Felicity.

"Right," replied Ben, as he gave of a great exhale.

Felicity looked at Ben curiously and he could notice it. "What?" asked Ben, as if a bothersome individual was ruining his moments of meditation.

"Ever since Father decided not to sell tea at the store, we kept drinking something else, but I certainly don't ever recall you drinking coffee."

"You know, you're right about that, Lissie," replied Ben. "Mayhap I never did."

Felicity forced a smile. "Are you doing this just to impress me?" she asked sweetly.

Ben looked up at Felicity abruptly. "Im_press_ you?"

Felicity nodded.

"Partially," replied Ben. "But the other reason is also because I wanted to try something else new on this ship…before I die."

Felicity chuckled to herself at the way Ben was humoring her. "Ben, this is the future," she said rather reassuringly. "You're not going to die, at least not too early, thank God, though that depends pretty much on what you do to your health."

"My health is fine," assured Ben, as he took another swig of the coffee. He grimaced again.

"Either the coffee is too hot for your taste, or you just don't like it very much," remarked Felicity.

"Well, the sweetener helps a bit," put in Ben. Suddenly he noticed his right foot being lightly tapped. Still staring into his coffee mug, Ben said rather casually, "You're doing something to my foot."

Felicity giggled suggestively. "Was I doing something to your foot?" she asked coyly, in an almost mumbling manner.

"Well, I felt my foot being tapped upon, and given that you and I are the only ones at this table, I would immediately assume that you're the one doing it," replied Ben, as he took another swig of his coffee. He grimaced again.

"You don't have to finish that Ben," said Felicity gently.

"Yes, I do," replied Ben. He took several swigs until the mug was empty. GLUG, GLUG, GLUG, GLUG, GLUG, GLUG, GLUG, GLUG….

"AHHHH," breathed Ben. He shoved the mug over to the table area where Felicity was. Her eyes widened, then she looked at him in the face.

"Oh, Ben…" said Felicity soothingly.

"Well, you were right initially about drinking this coffee just to impress you," said Ben.

"I most certainly did," said Felicity. She continued dining on her beef stew.

The minutes seemed to pass by like seconds, as Felicity savored every bit of the stew. Ben, who had nothing better to do at the moment, kept ogling Felicity, as his head leaned on his right hand, with his arm supporting his freefalling head on the table surface. She noticed it too. But this time, she could detect some tinge of slight resentment behind those eyes of love. She sensed some kind of foreboding, though she couldn't understand it. She knew that somehow, something was rather wrong.

"Ben?" asked Felicity, with a look of concern on her face.

Ben straightened his head and put both arms on the table in an akimbo fashion. "Hmm?" he asked rather casually.

Felicity's face was demurely serious. "Ben, tell me, are you all right?" she asked gently.

Ben forced a light chuckle. "Of course I am, Lissie," he replied. "W-why shouldn't I be?"

Felicity shook her head lightly, and her face carried that same demurely serious look. "You don't seem to be all right," she said, looking at him almost squarely in the face. "You look as though you're resentful about something. Or someone. Whatever it is, 'tis disturbing you greatly."

Ben waved his hand down as indication that his demeanor should be overlooked. "Now, now, hush with such talk, Lissie-girl," he said, forcing a laugh. "You exaggerate."

Felicity gave him a rather sober, disapproving look. "I'm not exaggerating, Ben, and you know it."

"Lissie, stop worrying the hell out of me. I'm all right."

"I hope so," she said rather solemnly. Ben couldn't help but feel kind of surprised mentally about Felicity's gift of reading people's expressions just almost by the way their faces formed. Still, Ben couldn't shake off his resentful feelings, but he sort of managed to keep a straight face that kept Felicity from being suspicious of him for a while.

Felicity managed to finish the last of the English beef stew. "That was so…"

"Satisfying?" asked Ben. "I would generally assume so, given the quality of the food itself has to do with being generated out of nothing."

Felicity laughed to herself suggestively again. Then her demeanor became wistful.

""Tis ever so nice in here," she said appreciatively. "I wish we could all stay here forever."

Ben exhaled. Felicity continued rambling on.

"…Funny. I used to say that whenever we were at Grandfather's plantation." All of a sudden memories of King's Creek plantation were swimming in the back of her mind.

"The nostalgia's taking over you again, Lissie," remarked Ben.

"Aye, it is," replied Felicity in a dreamlike trance. Then she recovered herself. "Oh, well, best not be too caught up with the past. Given a choice, I would rather stay here, in this time," she said determinedly.

"Why?" asked Ben.

"For health reasons. We won't have to worry about being hungry, or sick…"

"Or lonely?"

"Well, it is rather lonely without Mother and Father and Polly. And Penny. But I cope with it. And so should you. At least we have each other. You, Elizabeth, Nan, William…"

"Bet the bottom area of gold-pressed latinum strips that you do, Miss Merriman," said a fair Southern voice. "I dare say, you are truly blessed."

Felicity looked up in surprise. It was Guinan, smiling deeply at her.

"G-Guinan," greeted Ben.

"Mmm," she replied, almost unenthusiastically. "Mind if I join you two?"

"N-not at all," replied Ben. Guinan took a seat on Ben's left area, with her back facing the central observation window.

"Barman Marles jest kept a-blabbin' about your little stint in the Ten-Forward lounge," remarked Guinan.

"What stint?" asked Ben.

"Oh, don't get clueless with me, Mr. Davidson," said Guinan. She smiled rather mischievously, much to Felicity's chagrin. "He told me the other day that you and Miss Merriman were havin' a nice, warm smooch."

It seemed that Felicity had never heard the term before. "Pray, what's a 'smooch'?" she asked innocently.

"Oh, it's a modern term to describe a kiss," replied Guinan.

"Oh, no doubt about that," said Felicity forcefully.

"That's why she's been…"

"Ben!" exclaimed Felicity, nearly startled. She leaned close to his ear. "Please don't tell," she whispered pleadingly.

Ben exhaled. "Fine," he said. Felicity smiled in gratitude.

"Bet there was somethin' you didn't want told," remarked Guinan.

"Aye. 'Tis our little secret between me…and Lissie."

Guinan nodded, though her face hinted some degree of disapproval. "Oh." She decided to move on to another topic. "So…where are the rest of your siblings and friends, Miss Merriman?"

"They went with Mr. Data to another virtual room," replied Ben on Felicity's behalf.

"Oh, I see. Another holodeck. Just out of curiosity, will they be coming here as well to have lunch?"

"I think so."

"Perhaps sooner, if I might safely assume."

Ben could hear noisy talking coming from behind the room. Instinctively he turned his face. Felicity faced where Ben was facing, too. Guinan's eyes were filled with fascination. But Felicity's expression turned to worry.

Elizabeth, Nan, and William, accompanied by Lt. Cmdr. Data, were approaching the same table area where both Felicity and Ben were. Nan and William were quite jovial, but Elizabeth carried a look of unspeakable shock in her face, as indicated by the dilated state of her avid blue eyes.

"Oh, Lissie," Nan burst out almost uncontrollably as she tugged at Felicity's skirts. "We had the most wonderful time with Mr. Data in fantasyland!"

"Calm down Nan," said Felicity. "What's the matter?"

"What kind?" asked Guinan kindly.

"Well," began Nan. "We first witnessed the…the…"

"Nativity," corrected Data.

"Aye." Nan put her face near her older sister's and whispered to her. "We got to see the baby Jesus."

Felicity gasped. Ben bugged his eyes out, as if what he was hearing was very peculiar to him. "You don't say!" she exclaimed. Her expression was quite joyful.

Nan nodded, smiling. "He was so cute, I couldn't help…staring at him," she said.

"'Aye, 'tis true," put in Elizabeth, trying to regain her composure. "Everyone just adored the Holy Infant."

Felicity was somewhat dubious. "Did they really witness the Holy Infant?" asked Felicity somewhat skeptically.

"On a holodeck, virtually anything is possible," replied Data. "We borrowed a holoprogram titled _The Life of Jesus of Nazareth_. It was written by Lt. Junior Grade George Keswick after nearly 8 years of painstaking research on all the historical, physical, mental, physiological, and psychological aspects of the individual's life, and it's approximately 52 chapters long. The program itself is guaranteed to be 100 percent historically accurate."

"Cool," said Guinan,

"The lieutenant also lent all four of us each era-appropriate garments, as well as four universal translator because of the unfamiliarity of the native languages."

"We also got to see Jesus at twelve years of age," continued Nan. "And you know what? Elizabeth started having a crush with him!"

"Nan!" exclaimed Elizabeth, almost blushing. "Please!"

"You scallywag," said Ben, chuckling to himself.

"Ben," chided Felicity almost gently, her face almost grimacing.

"Well, the twelve-year-old Jesus character was physically attractive, and close to Miss Cole's age," commented Data in a rather casual manner.

"Wow. 'Tis amazing how much a fourteen-year-old boy like him can do," remarked Ben. "Just out of curiosity, how do these 'universal translators' work?"

"Technically they pick up sound from another language and translate it to the recipient's native language."

Ben seemed rather skeptical of that explanation, but curiosity was also prodding him to make inquiries about the languages themselves. "What were the languages?" he inquired.

"Aramaic, Latin, Greek, and Hebrew," replied Data. "The Jesus character mainly spoke Aramaic, but the program also has him speak a mixture of Latin and Greek during his trial with Pontius Pilate, the Roman procurator of Judea."

"And the…Hebrew?"

"In this particular holoprogram that language would be commonly heard among the Jewish chief priests, elders, and scribes, during their encounter with the Nazarene, as well as during the individual's show trial at the Sanhedrin."

"All this prior to His crucifixion?" inquired Ben.

"Precisely. Which is where we're about to get to when Miss Cole gets to divulge her part of the story."

"Fascinating," remarked Guinan. "So what's your fantasyland story, Miss Cole?"

"Well, 'tis…'tis rather tragic," faltered Elizabeth. "I'm not sure I should be telling you this, but 'twas horrible for my eyes to behold."

"Tell me 'tis a foreshadowing of the crucifixion of our Lord," said Ben.

"It is," replied Data rather emotionlessly.

"Well, we all came to the part of our Lord suffering on the cross with two…thieves," said Elizabeth rather hesitantly.

"Correction: the initial thief character, Gesmas, was indeed a thief," cut in Data. "The other victim, Dismas, known traditionally by most Christians as the 'Good Thief', was actually a Jewish revolutionary who fought against the Roman occupation to uphold the traditional Mosaic Law. So, in general, it fails to do him justice to just simply dub him as another 'thief'."

"Hmm; I wonder if that Dismas character was just as hotheaded a Jewish patriot as you are, Mr. Davidson," pondered Guinan. "I'll bet he was fighting for the freedom of his people, just as you colonists are.

Ben grimaced.

"Oh, well. Point taken, Mr. Data," said Guinan. "Can we continue?"

Elizabeth regained her composure. "It was a bloody sight to behold."

"Literally?" asked Ben quite loudly, interrupting Elizabeth.

"Hush, you!" chided Felicity.

"Aye, literally," replied Elizabeth both calmly and sadly. "His body bore stains of blood and bruises from the beatings he took. Both his hands and feet were completely nailed."

"Specifically the nails were driven via the wrist area, as it would be the strongest area on the arms to suspend a crucifixion victim. Also his feet were nailed on a platform 30 degrees down angle. The right foot was on top of the left foot, and both were driven by a single long nail. The other two crucifixion victims were fastened with ropes, which made severe abrasions on the area where they were hands and feet were suspended."

Naturally Felicity grimaced at that vivid description. So did Ben, though he was all too fascinated to be squeamish about the entire thing. "That's awfully painful to bear," she said.

Data nodded rather emotionlessly. "The gory part can be seen on the back of his body, which at the time of his crucifixion was not fully visible," commented Data.

"So he was…scourged?" asked Ben, trying not to sound too inconsiderate.

"Correct," replied Data. "According to historical records a type of whip called a 'flagrum' was used. It had metal balls attached to inflict on the victim maximum pain, which left wart-like scars on the victim's back."

"Not your typical cat-o-nine tails," said Guinan. "That one's more pain."

Ben grimaced a little.

"Pray, how do you know about those things?" asked Felicity squeamishly.

"I studied 18th century history during my free time," replied Guinan. Then she turned her head to face Elizabeth. "Why don't we let Miss Cole continue narrating her part of the story?"

Elizabeth continued. "As I said, 'twas a bloody sight to behold that I instinctively covered Nan and William's faces."

"That's why we didn't get to see the whole thing," complained William.

"William," said Nan in an innocent tone of voice.

"But there was one thing that was shocking, aye, so shocking to behold," continued Elizabeth. "The first thing that all of us noticed was…" her voice trailed off. "Well, he…he…" Elizabeth couldn't bring herself to describe that horrible scene.

Felicity looked at her friend with a mixture that hinted anxiety and concern. But she had to know the truth. "Just say it, Elizabeth," said Felicity in a serious tone of voice.

Elizabeth, winced, shut her eyes, swallowed hard and began to divulge the details to the best of her abilities, as far as propriety would allow. She whispered to her friend's ear. "He was naked," she said rather quickly.

Felicity was taken aback, as she put her right hand on her chest. "You don't say!" she exclaimed in a shock manner. She instinctively turned to Data. "Is it true? Was he really…stark naked?"

"Indeed he was," replied Data. "It is a strong likelihood for crucifixion victims to be stripped of every last ounce of dignity before being suspended, in order that the victim endures the worst possible humiliation he can ever know. Not only was Jesus stripped of his outer garments, but his groin area was exposed as well for the naked eye to see. It was intended to offend Jewish sensibilities, since complete exposure of the body was strictly forbidden under the Jewish code of law."

Data could see that Elizabeth was getting squeamish, too, but he rambled on. "Which was why the writers of the four main Gospels couldn't bring themselves to describe that particular scene, so as a result they only made rather vague implications of the phrase 'stripped of his garments'. And that also brings us to another interesting point. Most religious iconography, imagery, and sculpture depicting the crucifixion of Jesus of Nazareth have a loincloth that covers the groin area. The reason for this particular custom was due to the Roman Universal Church's Pope Paul III demand that all such imagery of Jesus be depicted with a loincloth because of the blatant offense against the sensibilities of most Christians."

"And for good reason," put in Felicity forcefully. "It _is_ offensive."

"Though in reality, he _would_ be, as Miss Cole has had the audacity to put it for us, 'stark naked'. For this reason, at her personal behest I immediately made a request for the computer to generate a loincloth on the groin area on all three characters in order to make it more efficacious for Miss Cole to witness the suffering Jesus character."

Felicity took a deep breath. "What else did you see, Elizabeth?" she asked gently.

Elizabeth swallowed. "I…I saw him…look at me…with tears in his eyes. There was a kind of…sadness in him, beneath all this matted…sweat and blood…all over his nearly disfigured face. And his long hair was unkempt. I started crying unstoppably." Everyone could tell that poor Elizabeth was trying to fight back tears, though she was getting rather close to being tearful, due to the sniffles they were starting to hear, as well as the tears in her troubled blue eyes. A long silence hung over the area where Data, Guinan, and the children currently were situated in.

"For a while," continued Elizabeth. "his eyes were looking up to heaven, and he was saying things that were rather unintelligible that my translating device could make out some of it. Mr. Data fortunately managed to translate those things for me."

"Possibly made out as the traditional seven last words of Jesus of Nazareth recorded in Christian liturgy and passed down through the ages," put in Data.

"This dreadful experience was so horrible I literally begged Mr. Data to end it."

"The program, you mean?" asked Guinan in a genial manner. Elizabeth nodded.

"After approximately 32.7 seconds, Miss Cole requested that I terminate the holoprogram. Her nerves were literally frayed from the graphic encounter that I automatically took her to see Dr. Crusher," said Data. "She managed to give her a depressant to calm her nerves."

Silence loomed again among the group until Guinan broke it.

"Well, I think we heard quite a lot of this tear-jerking narrative about a man who suffered unjustly at the hands of his determined captors," she declared rather slowly and solemnly as she could. "It was…quite a graphic experience for you, wasn't it, Miss Cole."

"It was…most overwhelming," replied Elizabeth.

"Something tells me she's going to start having nightmares about this," muttered Guinan. Then she raised her voice to a moderate tone and pitch. "Shall I get you children some lunch?" she asked Elizabeth, Nan, and William.

"Please," replied Elizabeth. It was a pleading request for lunch to be served.

Guinan nodded. "Very well. I'll take you and the little ones so you can place your lunch orders." Then she lowered her voice. "I'm gonna have to make a personal request to the barman for some Kleenex tissues." She accompanied Elizabeth and the little ones to the bar counter. Felicity looked at her friends and siblings with wide-eyed wonder.

"That was…very touching," remarked Felicity.

"No doubt," replied Ben. "Perhaps now that the tour's over, all five of us can probably start heading back to the Guest Quarters and bring Elizabeth back to her senses and tell her the whole thing was just a biblical fantasy."

"Ben, have some respect," said Felicity. "This is about our Lord, you know."

Ben heaved a sigh, as he was getting rather tired of Felicity criticizing him. "Yes, Lissie," he said rather forcefully and genially at the same time.

* * *

Well, I hope you were entertained by this chapter, as well as the previous chapters. If you have been entertained, please review. Your review keep me encouraged and going.

IMPORTANT HISTORICAL NOTE REGARDING THE CRUCIFIXION OF JESUS OF NAZARETH:

If the idea of seeing Jesus of Nazareth stark naked during His crucifixion is downright revolting, it was intended to be. The Romans, being experts at crucifixion, almost never gave any qualms about stripping the dignity of their crucifixion. Besides, the Bible says that Jesus was "stripped of his garments", that especially included his loincloth. This statement is emblazoned in St. Alphonsus Liguori's _Stations of the Cross_, the 10th Station. Here is an excerpt from_ Murder at Golgotha_, p. 96:

"Was our victim clothed or naked for the crucifixion? Stripping the victim fully naked, as the Roman procedure demanded, was not only humiliating for the person, it offended Jewish sensibilities rather worse than other peoples. The Jewish scriptures forbade nudity in any public place, and none of the four testimony authors can ever bring themselves to describe the removal of Jesus' clothes. This can only be inferred from their descriptions of the four-man execution squad dividing his garments between them (John 19:23). To this day, crucifixes in Christian churches almost invariably represent Jesus with a loincloth. This is partly because in the middle of the sixteenth century Pope Paul IV, reacting to the full nudities in Michelangelo's _Last Judgment_ (which he ordered to be covered over), expressly forbade that anything of this kind should ever again appear in Christian art. Mel Gibson, despite all his zeal to be ultra realistic and truthful in his _Passion_ movie, likewise shrank from going to the lengths of his actor being fully naked for the crucifixion scene. But in real life history the Romans intended that any crucifixion victim should undergo the fullest humiliation. And Jesus most graphically demonstrated his preparedness for humiliation when, slave-like, he had insisted on washing his disciples' feet less than twenty-four hours earlier."

BACK TO AUTHOR'S NOTES:

The next chapter will take a long time in coming up, partly because I have to catch up on my schoolwork, but partly because I have to organize my plot bunny for my Star Trek/Felicity fanfic. (You see, overtime, I've been collecting a lot of story ideas for my fanfic whenever an idea pops into my mind, so I just simply jot it down on paper and transfer those ideas to my files.) So just [patiently] hang in there. (This entire fanfic will never be left undone, not on my watch. But I'm gonna need a hell of a lot of encouragement if I'm going to continue, because as my plot bunny seems to indicate, this sci-fi Felicity fanfic is going to be a hell of a long story to tell!)

I hope my Lissie/Ben dialogue wasn't too lame.


	20. Chapter 20

_**Star Trek: The Next Generation – Souvenirs**_

**Written By:**_** Commander Cody CC-2224**_

CHAPTER 20

Both Data and Geordi La Forge were in the Main Engineering section busying themselves with downloading the memory logs into five separate tricorders. Each of the tricorders were distinctly labeled with the children's names, packed into a reinforced plastic box with metal bands.

"…And stow the rest of these memory log tricorders in my office," he ordered a crewman.

"Very good, sir." The crewman took the box.

"All right, Mr. Data," said La Forge quite loudly in his nearly fluent Southern accent as he fished out the tricorder marked "Benjamin Davidson". "Let's take a peek at…Mr. Davidson's memory log."

"Right away, sir. May I inquire as to why we're starting with this…Mr. Davidson first?"

"Oldest in the group. Seems to know much more than his chums put together."

Data jerked his head in a gesture that seemed to indicate his overlooking of La Forge's reason for the time being. La Forge immediately plugged the tricorder to a personal computer that was perched on the middle of the "pool table". Standing at the right side of the table relative to the MSD, the two viewed intently the beginning part of Ben's life starting from age three.

"Uh, fast-forward a little more," commanded La Forge.

Data pressed the forward touch-button, and the motion picture started speeding up, with the imagery whizzing forward in a dizzying manner.

"Play," said La Forge again.

Data clicked the single forward arrow button and the motion picture played at normal speed. The moving imagery comprised of Ben's first day at the Merrimans' household.

"How utterly nostalgic," commented La Forge.

"Sir…what's nostalgic?" asked Data quizically.

"Oh. Boy's first day as an apprentice, I guess. Forward again."

"Aye, sir."

Data clicked the forward button again, and the images whizzed forward dizzyingly. La Forge kept his eyes behind his VISOR relaxed during the fast-forwarding process. However, after a few seconds, he noticed something that seemed quite peculiar to him.

"Wait, hold," commanded La Forge. Data hit the pause button.

"Backtrack." Data clicked the rewind button until La Forge told him to hit "pause".

"Now play."

"Data hit the "play" button. At normal playback speed La Forge noticed a blinding white light that flashed for a second and disappeared.

"I recognize that process," said La Forge. "It must be…"

"Beaming?" inquired Data.

"Yeah."

La Forge peered into his VISOR. The visual was from Ben's first-person view, and the entire motion picture was viewed in a manner as if someone was carrying a camcorder of old the whole time. Both of them could hear Ben's conversation with the rest of the children via the stereo quality audio. He also noticed the surroundings disappearing and the entire place turning into a black surrounding with a bright purple-colored hologrid.

"Kidnapped," muttered La Forge.

Data perked up and faced him. "Sir?" he asked.

La Forge didn't answer. Instead he tapped his combadge. "La Forge to Captain."

Capt. Picard answered the combadge call from his ready-room. "Go ahead," he replied.

"Captain, you might want to come down here to Engineering. Data and I have just downloaded the aliens' memory logs to five separate tricorders, and we've just noticed something…well, unusual…on one of them."

Picard hesitated a little before replying "On my way."

Nearly after a minute or two Picard appeared on the scene. "What's the anomaly?" he inquired.

"Look right here," answered La Forge. Picard hurried to the personal computer and locked his stare on the screen as he put his right hand on his chin.

The part where the children were being transported to the _K'Tan_ from the POV of Benjamin Davidson was being played on the LCD screen. Picard viewed the motion picture as studiously as he could. He kept his gaze on the screen until the motion picture reached its end on the part where the children were being hooked up to the memory downloading machines.

"Um, we still don't know which vessel they were beamed to," said La Forge in a confiding manner. "The children, however, did make hints of a vessel they were abducted to, but overall the alien vessel hasn't been I.D.'d.

Picard gave a cursory double nod. "Schedule a conference with the senior officers at the Observation Lounge. 1230 hours. And bring the guests."

"Aye, Captain." La Forge immediately set to work on alerting the senior officers.

"I want to confirm all this…with our guests from time," muttered Picard. "Perhaps they can answer whatever questions we have."

* * *

Guest Quarters (Room 0313), Deck 10

The children were busying themselves in the living area. Nan and William, finding nothing else to do at the moment, were locked in another game of checkers. Ben was seated on the swivel chair near the desk glancing through the magazine of futuristic toys, with his legs crossed over the desk itself in a rather ungentlemanly manner. Elizabeth was seated on the main sofa in a ladylike fashion while Felicity was playing with her friend's blonde hair with an aluminum comb she managed to swipe from one of the desk drawers. It was apparent that Elizabeth was enjoying the dreamy sensation of having her hair gently combed.

"You know, you have such nice hair," remarked Felicity gently. "I dare say, I just can't seem to help feeling rather envious of you."

Elizabeth chuckled. "Oh, Lissie, you mustn't feel that way. Though I am aware that blond hair and blue eyes make a lovely complexion, you are blessed with an even lovelier complexion, with fiery red hair and sparkling green eyes."

"You really think mine is lovelier?"

"Oh, yes, Lissie!" exclaimed Elizabeth.

"But I have to admit, my hair is so stubborn," said Felicity seriously.

Ben looked up from his magazine. "I think I like you just the way you are, Lissie-girl," he said, with his face glancing at Felicity's. "With the stubborn red hair and all. It does seem to give the resemblance…of a _wild_ and _fiery_ and _passionate_ and _independent _spirit."

"Why thank you, Ben," replied Felicity, smiling sweetly. "I dare say you do flatter me so." Her look changed rather wistfully, but the smile still remained. "Just like my Penny-girl," she whispered to herself with a gentle sigh, making a reference to her beloved copper-colored horse.

"Of course, I suspect loads of people will start commenting about how Lissie's hair is in the color of carrots, or cinnamon, and, well…you get the idea. They might be right, though…as would I…but…"

At the sound of these remarks Felicity's expression changed into a rather sour one.

"That's not a nice thing to say, Benjamin Davidson," said Elizabeth firmly.

"Well, forgive me if I haven't brushed up on my gentleman's training," said Ben sarcastically.

"Even in this place and time you can still act like one," said Elizabeth.  
"There's no need to be rude."

"Well, then, if 'twas the case, then I crave pardon from her ladyship." Ben turned his face to Felicity again. "Is Lissie your personal hairdresser?"

"When the servants are not around, yes. For a time, that is."

"Nice," replied Ben, grinning. "I wish I could get my hair done, too, you know."

Felicity nearly laughed. "You're a boy, Ben. 'Twould be most queer for someone like you to be doing things that only girls would usually get engaged in."

"Well, I've got long hair, same as you fine young ladies put together," retorted Ben, as he slid his legs off the desk and set them on the floor while was seated on the swivel chair. "Besides, I'm bored here, Lissie. Emphasis in _bored_. And since when did you care?"

Nan perked her head up from the checkers game. "There are certain things a boy mustn't do," she declared in a rather precocious manner for an eight-year-old. "And that especially includes getting your hair combed like a girl's…"

"I teach Lissie how to whistle and fish," interrupted Ben, standing up from the chair. He sat back down and breathed a sigh. "Girls…tsk, tsk, tsk…always invading our boundaries…"

Felicity sighed as well. "All right, Ben. Come on up."

Elizabeth knew that it was Ben's turn to have his hair done. So she immediately got up to allow him sitting room. However, Ben hogged the whole sofa as he reclined his head on its left arm as he lay on his back, staring in satisfaction at the ceiling, with its well-lit ceiling-based fluorescent lights. Fortunately the light didn't strain his eyes.

"Time to make Ben a laughingstock in front of his friends," declared Felicity mischievously. Elizabeth snickered in reaction as she pinned her hair back with her light blue ribbon, which was basically the same color as her gown, and put on her mobcap.

Felicity unraveled the white ribbon which tied Ben's hair in a queue and set herself to work on combing and stroking it in a gentle manner. Ben felt as if he had gone to the local salon. Elizabeth sauntered to the back of the sofa and leaned on the middle, while casting her glance at both Felicity and Ben.

"So did you have a good cry in the 'virtual room'?" Ben asked Elizabeth.

"Aye, I did."

"You must have been shedding quite a lot of tears lately," remarked Ben in a rather casual manner.

"Well, it was a very disheartening sight, seeing our Lord nailed to the cross…"

"In the virtual room, no doubt," cut in Ben. "I'm betting 'tis your first time with having your first brush with a crucifixion victim up close." He laid back. "God, how I wish you were there with you. Then I'd really believe you when you said that it was as…scary as you've seen it with your own eyes."

There was a brief silence for a moment before Felicity broke it. "By the way, I found another one of those indecent articles," she confided.

"Whoop de do," replied Ben. He turned his head a little bit so his eyes could catch Felicity's face. "Can I see it?"

"No!" squeaked a shocked Felicity.

"Please?"

Felicity tugged at Ben's hair with the comb a little more harder than she usually did. "Benjamin Davidson, you seriously don't have the intention of perverting yourself with such whoredom!" She stopped for a moment. "Do you?"

"Nay. I was just teasing, Felicity Merriman," replied Ben. He lowered his voice. "Did you stash it away in the locker?"

Felicity nodded. "Aye, I did. And don't you ever go sneaking into it."

"Riight." Ben thought for a moment. "And this would be…"

"The third time this has happened."

"Which makes us all the more justified in notifying the captain. So when can we do that?"

Ben's answer sort of came in the form of the buzzing intercom. Lt. Cmdr. Data was on the line.

BEEP! "Mr. Benjamin Davidson, Miss Felicity Merriman, Miss Nan Merriman, Mr. William Merriman, and Miss Elizabeth Cole, please be ready report to the Observation Lounge on Deck 1 in exactly two minutes. The Counselor will arrive shortly to your quarters to escort you there."

"The Observation Lounge?" inquired Felicity in an anxious manner. "But why?"

"Probably to toy with us, that's for sure," replied Ben emphatically.

"Perhaps they have some questions to ask of us," put in Elizabeth calmly, trying to be helpful.

"I guess our opportunity to inform the captain has come at last," declared Ben. "We can get the safe out when Miss Counselor arrives."

Felicity nodded as she stroked Ben's hair with the comb.

"Just…don't go mentioning what's in the box, though, or she'll think we're depraved," added Ben.

"All right."

Ben was continuing to enjoy the sensation of having his hair done, as hinted by the self-satisfied smile that crept over his face. "Um, Lissie, can you keep this up until the Counselor arrives? I'm…uh…really enjoying this."

"Can't. We have to be ready to by the time Miss Counselor arrives on our doorstep."

"So what are you doing, then?"

"Tying back your hair, of course," replied Felicity. Ben sighed. "There. Now you look fairly presentable."

"Nice to hear," replied Ben as he got up from the sofa.

"How do I look?" asked Elizabeth, as she straightened her mobcap with both her hands.

"Pretty as usual," replied Felicity, smiling.

"Gracious, Elizabeth," remarked Ben. "How conceited can you get?"

Elizabeth's changed her face to an expression that indicated feeling a little hurt about what was said about her. Felicity stepped in on her behalf.

"She's not conceited," Felicity retorted hotly. "And you have no right to say such things, Benjamin Davidson!"

"Yes, I do," replied Ben. "I've got just as much right to speak my mind as you do, Felicity Merriman."

"Not they way you're doing," replied Felicity.

Ben set himself to straightening his neckerchief and the soldier's wooden whistle around his neck.

"You apologize to Miss Cole at once!" piped up Nan.

Ben exhaled. "Sorry, Lizzie," he said in a rather cursory manner. He turned his face to Felicity. "There. Does that satisfy you?"

"Quite," replied Felicity a little curtly.

"I hope…". Without another word Ben sat back on the swivel chair with his legs crossed over the desk and continued glancing at his magazine of futuristic toys.

Elizabeth was busy casting her glance at Ben, after which she faced her friend. "Lissie?" she whispered.

Felicity moved closer to Elizabeth. "What is it?" she asked quietly.

Elizabeth's blue eyes were troubled. "I fear that something is not right with Ben. Pray, what's got into him lately?" Her foreboding seemed to convince Felicity a little, but she brushed it off for the time being. But she was just as worried as her friend was.

"He's…a tad twitchity, but I think he's all right," replied Felicity, as she cast her glance at Ben. He was still peering at the magazine as intently as he could. "He's just bored, that's all."

"Perhaps if we could let him walk around the ship for a while…"

Felicity faced her friend. "That might be a good idea, Elizabeth. Perhaps after our sojourn in the Lounge." She turned her face away a little. "Besides, Ben and I have some unfinished business to catch up with."

"I take it 'tis about the magazine that you and Ben were talking about."

Felicity was rather surprised that Elizabeth could hear quite well. "Aye, it does," she replied curtly.

"Well, whatever it is, you'll let Ben walk around the ship?"

"You mean alone?" asked Felicity, a tad shocked. Elizabeth nodded meekly.

Felicity unhappily hung her head a little. She always enjoyed accompanying Ben, but the thought of Elizabeth being close to right about him loomed over her head. She had very little time to think about it when the door chime sounded.

EE-EEP!

"Come," called Ben in a rather unenthusiastic manner.

The automatic sliding doors opened and in stepped Counselor Troi.

"Ready, kids?" she asked cheerfully.

* * *

Counselor Troi accompanied the children across the Deck 10 saucer section corridors.

"What's that you're carrying with you?" asked Troi, pointing her right hand index finger at the safe box that Ben was toting.

"Um, you really don't want to know," replied Ben, as casually as he could.

"Don't I ever," replied Troi, her eyes narrowing rather skeptically at Felicity. "Might I inquire as to why you're taking it with you?"

"To show to the captain."

"But you see, it is my duty as well to find out what you're carrying, in case it's something dangerous that you might inadvertently use against the captain."

"Well…um…we had issues of somebody sneaking perverted material into our quarters," put in Felicity. She gulped lightly.

"Whoa."

Ben frowned at her. "Lissie!" he exclaimed in an almost whispery voice.

Felicity faced him. "Ben, please don't take it personally," she pleaded in the same whispering tone of voice. "Miss Counselor was getting intrusive enough; I had to give some answer."

"Fine. But use caution next time."

"I _was_ using caution, Benjamin Davidson!" she exclaimed in a whisper. "Do you take me for a fool?"

Ben forced a mischievous smile. "Aye," he whispered. Felicity continued scowling at him as she, the Counselor, and the rest of the children entered the main turbolift.

* * *

Observation Lounge, Deck 1

1235 hours

The _Enterprise_ was still cruising at warp factor 2. The Observation Lounge, located at the aft part of the saucer section, was busy as ever. This time the Lounge was well lit, and almost every main member of the senior officer corps was present. The children were present as well.

Capt. Picard was seated on his swivel chair, which was situated in the middle of the conference table's side at the port side of the Lounge. His first officer, Cmdr. Riker, was seated next to the captain's right side, at the end of the table's length. Counselor Troi was situated near the captain's left side, at the other length's end of the table as well.

The rest of the senior officers were situated at the table's length nearest the observation windows. Lt. Cmdr. Data's seat was empty for the time being, as Data was busying himself with explaining stuff on the starboard wall-based LCD screen. La Forge was seated next to the right side of Data's seat, and Lt. Cmdr. Worf was seated next to La Forge's right side. Senior Chief Petty Officer Miles O'Brien was seated on a lone swivel chair near the computer screen that Data was using.

The children were seated for the most part at the other side of the conference table, nearest the decorated wall. Ben sat next to Counselor Troi's left side, and Felicity was seated next to his left side as well. To Felicity's left were Elizabeth, Nan, and William, respectively, going to the left direction.

The conference had just started a few minutes ago. This time, Data was blabbing out historical factoids about the place and time the children had come from. A 3-D map of Colonial Williamsburg from aerial view was on display on the starboard LCD.

"…Williamsburg was still the capital city of Virginia from 1699. However it declined in prominence…"

"That will do, Mr. Data," interrupted Picard.

Data jerked his head. "I apologize sir. I was merely stating the city's historical facts.

"I know, Data," replied Picard, as he got up from his seat and sauntered to the replicator at the port side of the Lounge. "But our guests from time are not supposed to gain future information regarding those facts, as with anything else that pertains after the year 1776."

With a nod, Data strode promptly back to his seat between Riker and La Forge. Picard returned to his seat with a snow-white teacup filled with Earl Gray.

"Tea, Mr. Davidson?" he asked genially.

"Um…not really," replied Ben reluctantly.

Picard chuckled lightly to himself. "You're in the 24th century, Mr. Davidson. The political aspects of drinking tea in the Colonies back in your time matter no more."

"Well, if that's the case, I'll take some." Ben assumed for a moment that he was taking tea just to be polite.

Immediately Picard faced Troi. "Counselor?" he asked, as if he was requesting her to get the tea. With a cursory nod Troi got up and busied herself with the replicator.

"So…can you confirm that what you've been seeing in those…'memory logs'…are nothing but your own?" queried Picard.

"We can," answered Felicity as clearly as she could.

Data inputted coordinates on the 3-D map until it zoomed to a certain area in the middle of Duke of Gloucester Street. "Can you confirm that this area is where you were born, according to the logs?"

"Where?" asked Felicity in a rather quizzical manner.

"Right here." The zoomed image was expanded a little further until Felicity got the whole picture.

"Hmm…you're right," concurred Felicity. "I was born there. Right at the left side would by Father's General Store."

Data inputted further coordinates and the map moved to the left in a smooth manner until it came to another area on the same street.

"How is all this possible?" asked Ben skeptically, as he watched the 3-D map of Colonial Williamsburg flit back and forth.

"This is the future," answered Picard.

"I'll be damned," muttered Ben in almost stupefied awe.

Naturally Troi arrived back to the conference table with five teacups filled with Earl Gray, each of which she passed among the children. The older girls were the first to take their sips. Nan and William followed next, though they delayed for a few seconds, as the tea was quite hot enough. Ben, who was squeamish at first, and given his initial encounter with Earl Gray, decided to take a sip of the tea, either to impress Felicity, or to show appreciation to his host.

"The tea tastes…fine," commented Ben.

"Really?" asked Felicity. "Because the last time you took tea you literally regurgitated it." Elizabeth snickered mischievously. Nan and William couldn't help laughing, too. The rest of the senior officers gave in to genial chuckling, save for Picard, Data and Worf. Picard just heaved a relaxed sigh. Data's android mind was trying to comprehend the situation. Worf, who seemed to lack a sense of humor, given his warrior reputation, crossed his arms akimbo and snorted.

"Oh, very funny, Elizabeth!" declared Ben crossly.

"Why, what was wrong with the tea?" inquired Troi.

"Nothing really," replied Elizabeth. "It tasted quite fine when we used…oh, what was it called?"

"The guest quarters replicator," finished Troi. "Well, I think in Mr. Davidson's case it would be matter of personal preference. As you seem to imply, Miss Cole, the replicator works fine. And so does the one in the Lounge."

"Aye, it is fine," agreed Ben. "I…well…I just wasn't used to it the first time."

"Given your Patriot affiliations, it is theoretically possible you might have rejected it the moment the Boston Tea Party of 1774 occurred." put in Data.

Felicity took her sip of tea too sooner than was expected. After taking nearly more than just a tiny sip, she felt the inside of her mouth burn with excruciating pain.

"Ahh!" she cried.

"You should have waited for your tea to cool off a little bit," said Elizabeth in an almost disapproving manner.

Felicity seemed to have no patience for such remarks, given that she was experiencing a mouth-burning sensation. "Aye, that's real helpful, Bitsy!" she snapped bitingly in a sarcastic and irritable manner.

Feeling rather hurt, Elizabeth plunked her teacup down in a rather unladylike fashion. "I _hate_ being called 'Bitsy'!" she snapped coldly in return. "See if you like being called 'Cinnamon Bun'!"

Felicity's expression changed. She faced her friend, looking very much defiant and incensed, with a temper as red as her hair. Elizabeth just stared at her in a casual manner.

"Don't you _dare_ ever call me that name again, Elizabeth Cole!" she spat violently.

"What?" asked Riker, almost amused. "You insulted her; she's just as much justified to call you names as well."

"Hmm. Cinnamon Bun," remarked O'Brien. "That sounds pretty appropriate, given that her auburn hair is close to the color of cinnamon, and that her hair is arranged into a bun. Hmm. However, an even greater insult for Miss Merriman would comprise of being called 'Witchy-Head', 'Hell-Haired' or 'The Girl from Hell'…"

Ben shrugged. "So much for insulting the wonderful Tory Elizabeth Cole," he remarked as well. Then a thought came to him, which he sort of confided to Troi, but just as audibly so Felicity could hear him. "'Tis rather funny how Felicity Merriman would say, "Mother! Mother! Bitsy called me 'Cinnamon Bun'!" he continued, as he laughed to himself.

"Well, Lissie?" asked Nan teasingly. "Isn't it your turn to apologize?"

"Absolutely not!" snapped Felicity, springing up from her seat. Nan recoiled in fright. "I do not intend to apologize to _any_one who dares so much as to tease me about the color of my hair!"

This time, Nan was determined. _'Tis time my older sister did the proper thing_, she thought to herself. "Yes, you will!" she snapped crossly, as she sprang up from her seat, too.

Felicity crossed her arms. "Won't!"

"Will!"

"Won't!"

"Will!" hollered Nan even louder.

"Won't ever! You don't know me, Nan Merriman!"

A loud commotion ensued across the table between the two girls.

"This conference is obviously going nowhere," groaned Picard.

Ben was watching the show with fascination. He couldn't help but be rather admired by Felicity's determination not to appear weak. "Her…tenacity…leaves something to be admired," he confided to Troi in a low voice.

"No doubt," replied Troi, a little worried. "But someone's going to have to do something about this unnecessary bickering before heads start being chewed out."

So Troi stood up from her chair. "Can everyone just quiet down a bit, please?" she announced in a loud voice.

"You heard the Counselor!" announced Picard even louder.

The hubbub died down pretty quickly until the Lounge was as silent as a monastery. Both Felicity and her younger sister sat back down in their seats. Her face was still cross.

"It was just…a little complement," Riker said to Felicity. "Do you really have to take it this personally?"

Worf snorted. "I've been called worse," he remarked gruffly.

"It would be better if you apologized, Miss Merriman," said Troi.

Her face still flushed with anger, Felicity stared crossly at her friend. Elizabeth, who was slightly timid and sad, was a little too hurt to apologize. She decided to reserve her apology for another time, given that the conference was still going on. So she just simply nodded with a serious look on her face.

Ben decided he needed to calm Felicity, or else she would go on another retorting rampage. "Quite frankly, I think Lissie's hair is very, very pretty," he remarked in a rather rhythmic tone of voice. "Do you?"

"Whatever, man," said Riker, chuckling to himself. Ben smiled at Felicity, and Felicity looked at him, forcing back a smile. She relaxed in her seat.

"Your pride is getting too much of the better of you," warned O'Brien. His face looked pretty serious.

Felicity looked at him. She was pretty much compelled to take him seriously. "You're right, Mr. O'Brien," she said with composure. "My pride did get the better of me too much." Feeling rather guilty about calling her best friend names, she decided to apologize quietly. "I…um…I'm very…sorry…Elizabeth…" she faltered. Elizabeth still kept a rather straight face, but nodded daintily in assent. Felicity relaxed in her seat, this time looking pretty satisfied with herself.

Picard cleared his throat. "That settled, then, I think we should move to another topic that is relevant to what this conference was called for," he declared.

"Perhaps we can delve further into Miss Cole's family history, since she hasn't really said anything much during the minutes," put in Data. He faced Elizabeth. "Might I inquire as to how many siblings you have?"

"Well…I do have…or rather, had…as I'm currently in a future time, one older sister…" answered Elizabeth in a rather reserved manner.

"Who's very, very snobby…" put in Felicity.

"Like this?" asked Data. Clicking on a remote, the LCD screen displayed a close-up view of Annabelle Cole's face from Ben's POV in his memory log. Her face carried a flirty smile, and her eyelashes were quite batty.

"Snobbish?" asked Riker skeptically.

"That is implied," answered Data. He faced Elizabeth. "It is theoretically possible that your sister, being the eldest in your family, was pampered quite a lot."

"That's a rather blunt statement to make, Data," put in Picard.

"True, sir, but I can perceive the accuracy of my statement."

Picard sighed. "Continue."

Data faced Elizabeth again. "It's also possible that your older sister had far greater exposure to English culture, not to mention her frequent participation in it."

"Aye," replied Elizabeth. "She said she had many acquaintances in London."

"That gal's quite an Anglocentrist if ya ask me," remarked La Forge.

"Kind of painful to part with the Old World, I guess," mentioned Riker.

It seemed to be Ben's turn to have his say. "Hmm. Anglocentrist. That's term I've never heard before in my entire life," he said quietly.

O'Brien stared at the image rather quizzically. "Well, I must say, you can't deny the prettiness of her entire being," he remarked quite audibly. He faced Elizabeth. "How old is he?"

"Sixteen years of age," answered Elizabeth.

"Same age as Mr. Davidson's?"

"Aye," she replied, nodding her head in a graceful manner.

O'Brien faced Ben. "Well, Mr. Davidson" he began. "It seems you do have quite a match between you and this older Cole sister."

Troi chuckled lightly. "I think he's more interested in Miss Merriman than her," she remarked in a rather flirty manner.

Picard cleared his throat. "Anything to say that is _pertinent_ to the subject of this conference?" he asked in a clear voice.

"Well, we…kind of suspect that the memories that we've been seeing these past few hours might not be their memories," said La Forge. "They might belong to someone else."

"Number One?"

"Possibly."

"Data?"

"The analysis we performed in the biomedical lab regarding the physical, mental, physiological, and psychological capabilities and limits of the children would confirm that such a happenstance would be highly unlikely," put in Data.

"So you're basically implying that such a feat would not have been possible in the 18th century?"

"That is correct."

Worf snorted. "I still find the whole affair to be…weird…and skeptical," he said. "We still can't be very sure."

Data spoke up. "Captain, there is a solution to verify the authenticity of the memory logs."

"Proceed, Mr. Data," replied Picard.

"There is a possibility to ascertain and confirm the actual timeline using stellar cartography. I request permission to proceed with the task."

There was a brief silence while the captain was making his decision. After a few seconds had passed, he gave the order for everyone to join him at the Lab.

"Permission granted. Everyone proceed to the Stellar Cartography lab, Deck 12."

* * *

Stellar Cartography Lab, Deck 12

Stellar Cartography Lab was at close proximity to the Planetary Science Lab. Not much was rather fanciful, save for a few computer systems, which to the children was, as fascinating as ever, though after absorbing a lot of newness on board, the surroundings of the entire room came a little naturally to them. At the center of the room was a square table with a semispherical globe with little colored dots. At the sides were computer systems that registered star charts and stellar positions across the universe.

Picard and the rest of the senior officers were huddled near a computer system located on the right side of the room relative to the entranceway. Data sat down on the swivel chair, plugged the tricorder containing Ben's memory logs into the computer system, and scanned through the logs themselves.

"What are you doing?" inquired Ben in a skeptical manner.

"I am attempting a search through your memories for scenes which involve you looking up at the night sky."

Ben was rather puzzled. "What does the night sky have to do with any of this?" he questioned further.

Data turned his face to him in a rather emotionless manner. "If I can ascertain the exact position of the stars from the century you came, and match up those stellar positions with that of existing stellar records pertaining to the 18th century, it should confirm the fact of you and the rest of your friends being taken from the 18th century itself." Facing the screen again, he sifted through the logs until he came to a scene where Ben's eyes were focused on the night sky, which took place when Ben was but a boy of seven years of age.

Immediately after isolating the imagery, Data searched through the star chart records collected from different areas, possibly beginning from the Big Bang. The records kept sifting from the present century and kept speeding backward until a positive match of one of the 18th century records appeared. The stellar positions were shown out in blinking yellow highlights and a steady beeping sound.

"Match confirmed," announced Data. "The stellar positions of Mr. Davidson's log coincide with a star chart pertaining to 18th century origins."

"Exact date and time?" inquired Picard.

Data faced the captain. "June 5, 1766."

Felicity gasped in shock, her right hand on her chest in a ladylike gesture of astonishment. "That's one year after I was born," she put in.

"Same with me, too," added Elizabeth, who was also astonished as well.

Picard nodded in assent and turned to the senior officers. "Well then. It seems that our theory of our guests being taken from time is confirmed, beyond doubt perhaps. You all are witnesses to this event. I guess this conference is concluded You're all dismissed."

After a few nods the senior officers, except Data and Troi, left the lab room. Data was still glancing at the computer display.

"I…I have an appointment with a troubled crewman."

"Right. Mr. Data?" called Picard.

Data looked up from the display. "Sir?"

"Would you be kind enough to escort our guests from time back to their quarters?"

"Certainly."

Data immediately got up from the seat and summoned the children to follow him. Elizabeth and Nan bobbed happy curtsies and followed the android, save for Felicity and Ben, who had some unfinished business to discuss with the captain.

"Wait!" cried Felicity. She went to the captain toting the safe. "Captain, there's something we have to inform you about."

"In private," added Ben.

Picard turned at the two children with a serious look on his face. "Why private?"

"Um…it concerns our reputation," replied Felicity.

Picard sighed rather exasperatingly. "Follow me to my quarters."

Picard immediately left the room, followed by both Felicity and Ben.

* * *

Elizabeth, Nan, and William were with Data while the group sauntered across the slightly curvy Deck 12 corridors on their way to the main turbolift. Both the android and Elizabeth herself were locked in discussion about the subject of her older sister.

"Miss Cole," began Data in a rather perplexed manner. "I…do not understand how teasing your older sister is…amusing."

"'Tis all in good fun, Mr. Data," replied Elizabeth. "However, my best friend and I devised some of our own rules about teasing old Annabelle Bananabelle."

Data jerked his head in confusion, as if his android brain had difficulty processing a word like what Elizabeth said. "Bananabelle?"

"'Tis a nickname Lissie and I came up with. Well…actually, Lissie was the first to come up with it."

Data simply shrugged. "Do elaborate on the teasing rules."

"All right," began Elizabeth, as she counted off the rules while tapping her fingers. "No lies, nothing unkind or mean-spirited, nothing that hurts, and only for a _very_ good reason."

"Sounds rather reasonable," remarked Nan.

Data jerked his head. "Hmm," he pondered. "Given the perceptions I currently have for human children teasing each other, that type of teasing would be a tad mild."

Elizabeth looked rather curious.

* * *

Capt. Jean-Luc Picard's Quarters (Room 3601)

Deck 8

The captain's quarters was set to a dim light setting. Felicity set the sealed safe down on the desk. Picard gave a cursory glance at the safe itself, then looked up. "So what's the problem?"

Ben immediately looked at Felicity. "You wanna do the talking, Lissie? 'Cause I'm starting to feel the itch to look at those articles again, and I feel like a damn hypocrite…"

"All right," cut in Felicity solemnly. "I'll do all the talking, as I seem to be quite accomplished at it." She took a deep breath before she began her screed. Then she looked the captain in the eye. But before she could do that…

"Open the safe," commanded Picard. Felicity immediately opened the safe box without unlocking it. The safe itself was left unlocked, due to the fact that it was equipped with an electronic locking mechanism, which Felicity and Ben had know idea how to utilize. Picard immediately took out one of the magazines and briefly scanned the front cover.

"Hmm. Playboy."

Felicity nodded by a smidgen.

"My suspicions that all of you kids are new here are already confirmed right now, given the fact that you managed to open the safe without unlocking it," said the captain.

"Pray, what do you mean?" asked Felicity, laughing a little bit.

"You all had no idea how to utilize the locking mechanisms."

"Oh." She couldn't help smiling a little bit. She was getting rather shy about it, and the same time, curious about the safe's mechanism. But her slightly wandering mind was brought back to the present when Picard curtly ordered her to state the problem.

"Proceed," commanded Picard.

Felicity took a deep breath again before she began. "These perverted articles…were surreptitiously snuck into our quarters three times," said Felicity. "Whenever all of us were out of our room, and I mean all of us children; Ben, Elizabeth, Nan, William, and myself, we would find such a piece of whoredom thrown into the desk drawers."

Picard nodded. There was a brief silence before Felicity continued.

"Just as a tip, we think it's that obnoxious Lieutenant Corbin," said Felicity.

"Why would you think that?" queried Picard.

"His behavior in the place where the doctor was doing examinations on us might have caught the bottom of our minds," replied Felicity. "He was…acting weird…and…obnoxious with my friends and siblings. For instance…he was scaring them into thinking that the contraption with which we would be subjected to…was…a machine that would…_eat_ people."

Picard involuntarily chuckled to himself. "_Eat_ people?" Felicity nodded seriously.

"Huh. Coming from a guy like him, the very idea sounds quite laughable. I'm pretty sure he was only teasing you kids."

"Well, that's what he admitted later, during our examination with the kindly doctor," said Ben.

The captain looked at Felicity seriously again. "And you think…such a demeanor as his…would warrant pinning the blame of the Playboy magazine issue…on him?"

"Well…Ben told me to wait until he…or whoever it was…did the whole sneaking thing at least three times before we reported this matter to you," said Felicity.

Picard heaved a sigh as he scooped out the Playboy magazines nestled in the safe and threw them down carelessly on his desk. "Well…" he said rather curtly. "I'll see what I can do about this…issue. In the meantime…"

Both Felicity and Ben looked at the captain.

"…Ask one of the crew personnel on how to lock your quarters if you're concerned about the same incident happing again."

The duo nodded in agreement. "Yes, sir," they replied together.

"Good. That'll be all. And you can take the empty safe back."

"I'll carry it," said Ben, as he picked up the safe box off the desk. Toting the box with his right harm, he bowed in a gentlemanly fashion as he used his other hand to tip his tricorn hat. Felicity flashed her charming smile, bobbed a curtsy before leaving the room, with Ben following her. As the duo left, the automatic sliding doors closed behind them.

Picard was now left alone in his quarters, staring at the magazines that were thrown on the desk in a disheveled manner. After flipping through the pages of each of the articles cursorily, he tapped a touchbutton on his desk-based intercom. An audible beep was heard and a channel was opened.

"Lieutenant Harry Corbin, please report to my quarters."

* * *

A/N (1): I just hope it wasn't out of character for Felicity to call her best friend Elizabeth "Bitsy". If it is, just let me know in your reviews. I need me some feedback.

A/N (2): The rules of teasing Annabelle Cole were directly derived from the book _Very Funny, Elizabeth_.


	21. Chapter 21

_**Star Trek: The Next Generation – Souvenirs**_

**Written By:**_** Commander Cody CC-2224**_

CHAPTER 21

Replimat, Deck 12…

Benjamin Davidson was near one of the left side clear-glass counters of the brightly-lit Replimat, toying with a replica of an unloaded Colt pistol from the late 1880s. A few clicking sounds could be heard as Ben whipped out the pistol with his right hand and pointed it determinedly at a plastic shelf situated at the back wall, as if he was ready for the kill.

A gruff, laughing sound was heard from a semi-elderly man with a snowy-white ZZ Top beard, a broad-brimmed hat, which was in Old West style, and round glasses nearly 1 inch in diameter. He appeared to be in his late 50s.

"Heh, heh, heh. Now that is a hell of a toy to be handlin', son," he remarked gruffly.

Ben, being informed that the gun was unloaded, casually pulled the trigger. A fairly audible single clicking sound could be heard in that particular area of the room.

"That so?" he replied, as he lay the firearm down, with the end of its curved metallic handle pointing at the right end of the counter.

"You ain't seem nothin' yet," said man, as he lazily bent down to one of the small cabinets at the back of the counter. Instinctively Ben turned around. He noticed Elizabeth, Nan, and William peacefully entering the Replimat. Elizabeth smiled sweetly and waved to him, and Ben waved back in turn.

It was during the greeting that the bearded man took out an elegantly handcrafted rosewood box, which he planted firmly on the glass surface. He unlatched the box and lifted open the lid.

Ben's eyes widened with awe. An elegantly handcrafted Colt .45 handgun, laden with a glossy ivory white surrounding on the wooden handle, and marked with stylishly curvy black lines lay nestled in the plush, foamy scarlet cushion. A tinge of gold marked the middle of the cocking handle. The box's interior surroundings were of the same color as well.

"That is…wicked," remarked Ben in a hesitant manner, as he couldn't help taking his eyes off a finely handcrafted piece of work.

"No doubt it is," replied the man in a rather gruff manner. "Said to be the same pistol that General Kuribayashi toted with him all his life, before and durin' the Second World War."

The name sounded rather weird to Ben's ears. "Kuri-…who?" he asked confusedly.

"What, don't ya know who he is?" asked the man, narrowing his eyes rather suspiciously, almost perceiving him to be either stupid or foreign. "He's that Jap general who commanded the defensive forces on Iwo Jima. A great and terrible battle 'tween the Americans and the Jap took place in that particular hotspot in the Pacific Theater. Hot summer of nineteen forty-five, if I recall, near the war's closin' end."

"I…I didn't know that," admitted Ben. _1945? A war? That's an awful long time forward from the year I came from!_ he thought weirdly to himself. "What's 'Jap'?" he asked curiously.

"Shorthand for 'Japanese'. Slang, if ya ask me. Yup, those Japs were gettin' rather troublesome over a rather triflin' matter of crude oil rights on the Pacific Rim. Guess that's what started that bloody war wit' those twerps."

Ben was still confused, but the man kept a-blabbing.

"'Course that was…oh, let's see…oh, three hundred years ago." He paused for a moment, as he attempted to do the math in his head. "Um, three hundred and twenty-five years, to be exact."

"That's…quite an awfully long time," said Ben, still clueless. "Is…there still a quarrel with those…people?" asked Ben.

"Gracious, thank the goodly Lord, no. Nope, ain't had no quarrel wit' 'em since that particular war. They've been cooperatin' with us, and we, them. Besides, those poor chaps lost a hell of a lot of manpower in their country, so it took 'em quite an awful lot of time an' sweat to slowly rebuild their livelihood."

The man narrowed his eyes further. "Either you're too plain stupid to comprehend all this, or you're foreign in this place."

"Or time," finished Ben.

"That so? Well, in that case, best that I don't burden you wit' an overabundance of future historical factoids, as I sure as hell don't wanna get blamed for breakin' the Temporal Prime Directive."

The bearded man cast his gaze on the firearm and perked his head up to face Ben in a rather half-hearted manner. Ben looked around to see Elizabeth and the little ones exhibiting what appeared to be a delicate porcelain doll of 19th century origin perched in the middle of a glass shelf, with a glass wall right in front of it. The long shelf aisle was situated at the right side of the room, under the charge of a young, almost teenaged crewman in a yellow Starfleet uniform. Elizabeth was nearly bent down on knee, conversing with little Nan and pointing her right hand index finger in various motions while talking with her in a motherly fashion about the doll. William was busying himself to toddling around the two, as he exhibited other stuff in the confines of the Replimat.

"Gettin' back to the point as regards to this remarkable firearm…" continued the man.

Ben turned his face back to him. "It works?" he asked.

"Quite so, son. Still in perfect workin' order. Fires the bullet straight and true."

"And that's supposed to be the real thing that you were describing?"

"Unfortunately, no. This…is an exact replica of the real thing I've been talkin' about. The real thing is actually kept in the Smithsonian, which of course I won't go blabbin' about, 'cause you're from time, and I don't wanna answer no more questions about it, 'xcept to say that's it's basically a museum where the government keeps stuff related to our American heritage in exhibition."

Ben was still curious about the firearm. "Is the bullet loaded from the…muzzle?"

"Unlike the firearms of your time, no. That one is…well, breech-loaded. Actually, to be more specific, it's clip loaded. See, ya insert the ammo clip…" He demonstrated briefly by pressing a tiny button, which slid out the empty clip from the handle. His left hand caught the falling clip as his right hand toted the gun. He then slid the clip back until a fairly audible clicking sound was heard.

"And then ya cock back the firearm…like this." He demonstrated further by strenuously sliding back the cocking handle back and forth once.

"And once that's done, you can start spewin' hell out of this baby until the ammo runs out an' easy."

"That's so…easy," said Ben, as he couldn't help but wonder about the efficacy of such a futuristic firearm like that.

"Uh-huh. _Damn_ easy, if ya ask me." He motioned Ben a little closer as he showed him a certain button on the left side of the firearm. "That's the safety button, see? Once disengaged, I can firin' this baby. But once it's engaged, it neutralizes the trigger system, so you don't accidentally start killin' yourself, or anyone unintentionally. That's why they say 'tis never good to have the safety off."

Ben peered at the safety button. "I think I see your point…well…sort of…" he said.

"Somewhat."

Ben looked at the man in the eye. "Would it be all right if I gave it a try."

"Sure," he replied, shrugging. "Why don't ya give this baby a good try? Under my watchful eyes of course, as I can't afford to have a bloody liability on my otherwise clean hands. Just don't shoot nobody, though," he finished, chuckling genially in a mischievous manner.

Ben did the same thing that the man showed him on the firearm. After that he aimed the almost heavy firearm at an empty niche in the back wall shelf, and pulled the trigger. Nothing happened, save for a clicking sound that emanated from the firearm itself. It basically meant that the firearm was not loaded with rounds.

"Heh, heh, heh. Didn't want ya to hurt yourself, much less me, if you started accidentally goin' on a shootin' rampage."

"Well, thank Providence that I didn't hurt anyone…that is…if this thing was loaded."

"Seems you got some sense in you, boy. However, I can't really sell you any of these things 'cause first, you need a license to bear these firearms, and second, you're underage. You need to be at least 21 year of age minimum, plus you'll need a license. Suppose you haven't heard of that, have ya."

"Not…really," replied Ben rather hesitantly.

The man nodded a little. "However, I can give you a nonworking component of the '45 model, as a souvenir," he continued, grinning. His almost polished white teeth in the front part of his mouth were exposed.

"Nonworking?" asked Ben quizzically. "As in…totally junked up?"

The man chuckled. "Nope. It's the real thing, 'cept that the gun is basically empty. And by empty I mean that the clip itself is empty, though the gun may appear to be loaded. As I keep a-sayin' only the bullets kill people, not the gun itself."

Ben thought for a brief moment and forced a smile on his face. "I'll take the souvenir," he said.

* * *

Ben took the replicated souvenir of the handcrafted Colt .45 out of a light gray Mylar bag and held it in the palm of his hand, staring at it like a girl staring at a doll. "This is so good," he remarked sentimentally to himself.

"Ben?" asked a sweet, girlish voice in a British lilt.

Ben shoved the souvenir pistol back in the Mylar bag and instinctively turned to his right side to see who was behind him. "Elizabeth," he greeted.

Elizabeth was smiling rather sweetly at him until she eyed the bag. "Pray, might I inquire as to what's in that strange bag?" she asked calmly.

Ben took the souvenir Colt from the bag and showed it to Elizabeth. "Real beauty, isn't she?" he remarked.

Elizabeth felt the ivory handle and the gilded middle and beamed with appreciation . "Aye, 'tis true," she assented. Then suddenly there seemed to be a hit of sadness in her voice. "Annabelle hinted at the possibility of you joining…the army. Would you use…such a thing…to kill people? People on both sides of the war that we hold dear?" Elizabeth hated war very much, no matter whose side she was on, even if it was the Loyalist side. Much as she appreciated the superficial beauty of the firearm itself, she could not help but wonder whether Ben would use it against other people; people on both sides her family had acquaintances to; people who served in either the King's army or the Patriot army.

"Well…" replied Ben in a rather reluctant manner. "Can't say. I'm not sure if I can ever bring something like that to the time we came from."

"'Twould be best that you didn't," said Elizabeth.

Ben sighed in exasperation as he put the Colt back in the bag. "By the way, where's Lissie?" he asked.

* * *

Arboretum, Deck 14

2135 hours

Felicity was seated near the tranquil heart-shaped pond, in the central at the right asymmetrical area of the pond itself. Her bare feet were submerged, and her shoes and stockings were at her right side, almost near her. She was busy learning how to fish with the new fishing rod that she bought from the Replimat when Ben waltzed in.

"I dare say, I've never seen you barelegged before, Lissie-girl," he remarked.

Felicity chuckled to herself rather mischievously, as she remembered the day back in the fall of 1774 when she was on the rooftops of the Merrimans' kitchen roof, barelegged, while she was picking apples. She perked her head up, smiling in a bashful manner. He face, however, possessed a tinge of boldness about her.

"And pray, what is so wrong with that, Benjamin Davidson?" she asked in a slightly saucy manner.

Ben simply shrugged and smiled suggestively. "Nothing really," he replied. "You look awfully cute when you're barelegged."

Felicity sighed rather wistfully. "I suppose…" she said.

Ben approached the area of the pond's edge where Felicity was seated and sat in a bent-legged manner close to her right side, with his back slightly curved outward. "I…um…, take it you're already reconciled with your best friend?" he asked.

Felicity exhaled in a sighing manner. "I suppose…" she replied.

Ben's eyes widened a little. "You _suppose_?"

"Well, it…takes a little while to overlook hurt feelings," answered Felicity. "But I think I am…reconciled. I just have to be a little patient, that's all. I apologized to her, and squeezed her hand."

"One would think reconcilement comes a tad easier with girls like you than it does for boys like me," remarked Ben. "Based on the criticisms you incessantly rant against me, you almost make me wish I were a girl."

Felicity looked at Ben in the eye. "I dare say you're acting this way because you have no boy your age to befriend," she declared a little haughtily. Her face was demurely serious. "You're getting rather tired of having us older girls and little ones as your company, aren't you."

Ben stood up. "To be quite honest with you, aye."

Now Felicity stood up, placing her fishing rod near her right side, close to the edge of the pond. "It doesn't have to be this way, Ben," she said. "If you're feeling quite lonely, you have me as a sweetheart to love."

Been looked at Felicity. "But it's not just that, Lissie. I feel…rather useless around here; confined in this…ship. I want to be free, Lissie; free to move anywhere else aside from here; free to pursue whatever…_ambitions_…I want to get involved in."

Felicity placed her right hand on Ben's left shoulder. "You have other responsibilities, Ben," she said to him. "You are the eldest in this circle of loved ones. If you leave, who will take care of us?"

Ben chuckled to himself. "Coming from you, that almost means nothing."

Felicity looked at him seriously. "Yes, it does, Benjamin Davidson," she declared. "As an honorable lad, you wouldn't even dare think of gallivanting off and leaving us behind. If you ever did such a thing I would regret my feelings for you."

Ben smiled rather mischievously. "'Twould be best that you did, Felicity Merriman, because I dare quite a lot," he said quietly.

Felicity looked at him crossly. "Benjamin Davidson, what's got into you? I dare say, Elizabeth was really worried about the way you were acting these past few hours!"

Ben simply shrugged as Felicity tried to put off her worries. Felicity sighed, shaking her head disapprovingly.

"Anyway, how are Nan and William?" she asked, trying to recover her happy mood.

"They're…all right. They're with Elizabeth, though, in the Guest Quarters."

"Well, I can't leave them here for long with Elizabeth; she'll think I'm forsaking them."

Ben nodded cursorily and forced a smile. "Good thinking, Lissie-girl."

Felicity smiled rather sweetly. "Speaking of good thinking, might you be very kind to tell me what time it is?"

Ben looked around the room. "Computer," he announced, as two audible beeping sounds were heard across the room. "What time is it?"

"TWENTY-ONE THIRTY-EIGHT HOURS."

"Can you specify it a little bit?"

"SPECIFY PARAMETERS."

Ben scratched his head quizzically. "Try…oh, what was it called…American."

"THE STANDARD AMERICAN DEFINITION OF TWENTY-ONE THIRTY-EIGHT HOURS IS NINE THIRTY-EIGHT IN THE EVENING."

Felicity perked her head at Ben. "'Tis about time we had our little gathering," she said spunkily.

* * *

Guest Quarters, Deck 10

The automatic sliding doors opened and in entered both Felicity and Ben.

"Ah, Ben, Lissie," greeted Elizabeth, smiling sweetly as she stood up from the sofa and clasped her arms in a ladylike manner. "What now?"

"Devotion time," replied Felicity.

"At this hour?" asked Elizabeth, playfully feigning shock in her face.

"Nine thirty-eight in the evening, as Ben says," said Felicity.

Ben observed the two older girls with fascination. "So, it would seem that you to are reconciled," he remarked. "That went pretty fast."

Felicity chuckled to herself. "On account of Mother admonishing me to be patient with my best friend," she said. Before Felicity went to the Arboretum, she had a conversation with her friend. Elizabeth smiled back, but immediately changed her look to a rather serious one.

Felicity beamed at Ben suggestively. "I suggest you make this place a little more homely, just like home," she said coyly.

Ben cleared his throat. "Computer, dim the lights."

"COMMAND CONFIRMED." The room immediately blacked out. The surroundings were almost pitch black.

"A little more lighter," said Ben.

The surroundings brightened a little.

"A little more."

The surroundings brightened even further by a smidgen.

"More."

The surroundings brightened enough for everyone to see each other.

"Hmm. Just one more."

The surroundings brightened to the level of homely candlelight.

"Now that's what I call homely. What do you think, Lissie?"

"Very…homely."

"I agree," put in Elizabeth.

Elizabeth, Nan, and William immediately took their seats on the main sofa. Felicity handed Ben what appeared to be a King James version of the Bible book. It was 12 ft. in length and the width was half as long as the length itself.

"Care to do us the honor of reading Scripture?" she asked, beaming a mischievous smirk on her face. Ben goggled in reaction at first, and then grabbed the book from Felicity and took his seat in the middle side of the trundle-bed. As he flipped through the thin, film-like pages an idea popped into his mind.

"How about…if I read the story of Christ's crucifixion?" he said aloud.

Felicity shook her head in a manner that expressed disapproval. "Please, Ben. Not after what Elizabeth has been through.

Ben exhaled in a slightly irritated manner. "Oooohhh! You girls are just so sensitive!"

Felicity gave a rather staid look. "Ben…" she said quietly but firmly.

Ben grimaced in irritation. "Fine," he snapped. He flipped through the chapters, but had difficulty choosing what kind to read. _Those older girls really know how to censor my exercise regarding freedom of speech_, he thought rather bitterly to himself. After a moment of apparent indecisiveness, he slapped the book on his lap and gave a hand gesture that indicated "I don't know." Perhaps that indecisiveness he was experiencing was probably due to the resentment he was experiencing toward the girls.

"I…I don't know, ladies," he said quietly. I just can't decide what chapter or verse I should read that would be appropriate for this time." He looked up at the rest of the children, who were seated on the main sofa. "Is there a particular chapter or verse that you take a fancy to?" he asked.

Elizabeth glanced at Felicity, who was on the verge of making up her mind.

"Well, why not read…" she was interrupted when Nan shot up her right hand, as if to gain her older sister's attention.

"Why not read about the Christ Child?" she piped up.

"Why not read about Noah's ark?" put in William.

"Or maybe about the battle of Jericho? Or the conflict with the Philistines?" he retorted.

Nan heaved an exasperated sigh. "Boys…" she said, as she shook her head disapprovingly in the same manner Felicity did.

"They seem to remind men of the times when I wanted to join Washington's army," Ben muttered to himself.

Felicity seemed to notice Ben's foreboding about his yearning to join a fight. Her sixth sense told her that something just wasn't right, but she brushed the thought aside for the time being. She gave him a look that indicated concern. Elizabeth broke the silence that Felicity thought would last forever during her brief daydreaming.

"I think we should save the war stories for later, don't you think, Lissie?" she asked her friend calmly.

Felicity was woken up from her daydream. She relaxed and looked at her friend.

"How about reading about the Christ Child?" Nan requested again.

"Aye," she replied, as she turned her head to face Ben. "How about if you read the chapter about the Christ Child? Just like what Nan said?"

Ben snorted. "Lissie!" he protested. "The war stories are the interesting parts in the Good Book! Besides, 'tis not even Christmas!"

Felicity knew that she would have to get a little sweet on Ben if she was to have him do what she wanted him to do. "Please?" she pleaded.

Ben heaved a sigh of exasperation. "Oh, all right," he huffed.

Ben flipped through the Bible pages until he found the appropriate Gospel narrative pertaining to the story of the Nativity.

While Nan and William were in their peaceful slumber on the king-sized bed, and Ben was snoozing and snoring a little on the trundle bed, Felicity was still fairly awake in her white nightgown, seated on the swivel chair, and combing her stubborn red hair in a gentle manner in front of a 12-inch oval mirror mounted on an adjustable horizontal swivel bar, which was propped directly in front of her. A small fluorescent lamp was on her right side on the desk, illuminating that quiet spot in the otherwise dimmed living area. Her mobcap was perched near the lamp as well.

Elizabeth quietly approached her friend from behind. Her blond hair was loose and flowing from under her mobcap. She was a little timid; nevertheless she managed to maintain her composure as she stood near her friend's left side.

"Lissie?" she asked calmly and quietly.

Felicity turned her head to the left to face Elizabeth. "Hmm?" she crooned.

Elizabeth shrank back a little. "Oh," she replied timidly. "I was afraid you were going to snap at me if I bothered you."

"No, no, Elizabeth," said Felicity, getting hold of her friend's right arm gently with her left arm. "Please."

"Very well," she replied, hanging her head slightly in a demure manner as she stood. She gulped back a little bit before looked up to her friend's face and spoke. "Since no apology was in store, I thought I should issue one. You see, I was so upset about calling you 'Cinnamon Bun' when you called me Bitsy, and I noticed that you took great offense at the name. I do hope you'll forgive me, if I am to forgive you for calling me…Bitsy."

Felicity smiled gently as she took hold of Elizabeth's right hand with both her hands. "You're much more forgiving than I am," she said softly. Then she changed her expression to a solemn one. "We're still best friends, no matter what happens. It was out of frustration with the tea thing that I ended up calling you 'Bitsy.' I…I was flighty and…and thoughtless when that incident occurred."

"Well…worry not too much, Lissie," assured Elizabeth. "I forgave you in my heart, although I was too hurt to admit it…that I indeed forgave you."

Felicity hugged and cuddled her friend warmly. "We occasionally do foolish things and say foolish things, but whether they are meant from the heart is another matter. My actions…were never meant from the heart. I dare say the same should be said of yours."

Elizabeth nodded gently. "I should like very much to think so," she said.

"Hmm."

Felicity thought for a moment before confiding further with her friend. "It seems you were right, Elizabeth, about something being wrong with Ben. But I'm not sure what."

"That was only a speculation, Lissie," replied Elizabeth.

"I don't know…" said Felicity, shaking her head as her curly and flowing red hair swished sideways across her back. "All this talk about leaving…just leaves me unsettling."

Elizabeth seemed to read her friend's thoughts. "You're wondering about how Ben can even think of leaving when he's got us to take care of?" she asked gently.

Felicity looked at her friend's face. "What makes you think I'm thinking that?" she asked.

Elizabeth just smiled. "I can see it in your eyes," she said.

Felicity was grateful to have a friend like Elizabeth. "I'm glad you're my best friend, Elizabeth," she said as she squeezed her friend's right hand. "I…just don't know what I'd do without you."

Elizabeth squeezed Felicity's left hand. "I think I can share the same sentiment, Lissie. I'm glad you're my friend, too."

The two older girls embraced each other for a brief moment before deciding to part company.

"I'm heading to bed now, Lissie," said Elizabeth. "Best that you don't stay up too late."

"I'll be coming in just a moment," replied Felicity. "Don't you fret."

"Thank you, Lissie. And by the way, your hair is quite pretty."

Felicity beamed. "Why thank you, Elizabeth," she said sweetly.

"Good night," said Elizabeth.

"Good night," said Felicity.

Elizabeth beamed at her friend and headed to the king-sized bed in an all-quiet-like manner. Felicity brushed her hair a few times before setting the brush down in front of the mirror, dimming the fluorescent lamp and jumping into the same bed that Elizabeth and the little ones were sleeping. Felicity curled up near the left edge of the bed, and beside her friend's right side. She was glad that Elizabeth was the serenity of the entire group in the midst of occasionally quarrelsome siblings like Nan and William and hotheads like herself and Ben.

* * *

A/N (1): The idea of General Kuribayashi toting an American-made Colt .45 was derived from _Letters from Iwo Jima_. In the flashbacks such a handgun was given to Kuribayashi as a diplomatic gift during a formal state dinner between the Americans and the Japanese officials and diplomats.

A/N (2): I have to admit; my favorite scene in this chapter is the part where Ben gets to exhibit replicas of olden-day firearms in the Replimat. ('Cause after all, he's a boy, and I have to depict some sense of masculinity in him.)


	22. Chapter 22

_**Star Trek: The Next Generation – Souvenirs**_

**Written By:**_** Commander Cody CC-2224**_

CHAPTER 22

Swifter and swifter at nigh maximum warp soared the _U. S. S. Enterprise_ in the deep, starry blackness of space. The circumstances on board for the most part were incident-free for the time being. In the Engineering Room, crew personnel were busying themselves with their mundane duties. The same could be said with the circumstances on the on the Main Bridge, which currently was under command of Capt. Picard's First Officer, Commander Riker, who was braced and relaxed on the captain's chair. In the Captain's Quarters, Picard was seated on his desk chair in complete meditation, with his elbows placed over his desk, and his clasped hands under his chin.

On Deck 10, the Guest Quarters was silent. Ben was fast asleep on the trundle bed, with only his shift, his breeches, and his stockings on his body. His coat was draped over the swivel chair near the desk, and black-brown buckled shoes were situated near the middle side of his bed.

The rest of the children were fast asleep with their nightshifts on the king-sized bed. Felicity was sleeping on the left side edge of the bed, and Elizabeth near Felicity's left side. Nan curled up next to Elizabeth's left side, and William dozed off near the right side edge of the bed.

The children's clothes lay draped over the seating area of the main sofa. Elizabeth's gown was near the left side of the sofa, and Felicity's was next to Elizabeth's. Nan's gown was near her sister's, and William's next to Nan's.

Suddenly Elizabeth was stirring in her side of the king-sized bed. The stirring gradually became unsettling for her, but since the rest of the children were fast asleep, it never bothered them, even by a tad.

It never occurred to the rest of the children that poor Elizabeth was having very troubling nightmares.

Elizabeth stirred and stirred until the nightmares became mentally excruciating for her. In her mind, flashes of a bearded man hanging on a cross, with a bloodied-up face and a circlet of awfully sharp thorns on his head became vivid as day. After nearly half a minute…

"AHHHHHHHHHH!"

Elizabeth sprang upright in a sitting position on her side of the bed, screaming in God-awful fright.

Felicity woke up as well, frightened for her friend. "E-Elizabeth, what's the matter?" she asked anxiously.

Poor Elizabeth started sobbing and going half-berserk. "I…I…I c-can't get it out of my…my head," she sputtered nervously.

"Why? W-What's in your head, Elizabeth?" asked a frightened Felicity.

"A…A man…with a crown of thorns…his face bruised…and bloodied…"

Felicity came to the realization of what her friend was talking about. "Oh, my God," she said in fright and exasperation. "Don't tell me that…Mr. Data has been exposing you to our Lord on the cross if that's the cause of your nightmares."

"He…he looked at me…his eyes all red…and swollen…"

Immediately Felicity tried to shake Ben from his deep slumber. "Ben! Ben! Wake up! Something's dreadfully wrong with Elizabeth!"

Ben stirred slightly during his gradual waking moment. "Oh my God, don't tell me our dear little delicate blond Tory is suffering from nervous breakdown," he said sleepily.

"Ben, this is urgent!" cried Felicity. "Stop acting like this! Help me! Please!"

"How?"

Felicity was silent for a moment in the midst of Elizabeth's frantic mutterings. "Call the doctor. Call Doctor…"

Immediately Ben stumbled out of the trundle bed and pressed on the intercom. "Dr. Crusher? Dr. Crusher? Are you still awake?" he called.

Dr. Crusher's nearly sleepy voice came over the intercom. "Affirmative," she answered almost groggily. "What now?"

Ben glanced at the frantically behaving Elizabeth before he tapped the intercom touch-button again. "We…we've got ourselves a little emergency. Elizabeth…has been having some serious nightmares."

There was a two-second radio silence before a reply came, and it was the one that Ben, as well as Felicity, wanted to hear. "I'll be right there at the Main Sickbay," she answered over the intercom. "Just bring her there."

* * *

Main Sickbay, Deck 12

0207 hours

Dr. Crusher hovered a small handheld brain scanner in her right hand over a traumatized Elizabeth, who was plopped up on the middle sickbay bed in an upright position. Ben's presence calmed Elizabeth, as he sat on one of the main sickbay beds next to Elizabeth's right side. Capt. Picard stared at the girl with a serious look in his face.

Elizabeth's avid, pale-blue eyes stared glassily at the ceiling. Tendrils of loose, flowing blond hair peeped out under her slightly disheveled mobcap. Her breathing was rather rapid, as Dr. Crusher performed preliminary scans of her brain functions.

"Computer," enunciated Dr. Crusher. Two beeps emanated from the speakers. "Run diagnostics on Elizabeth Cole's higher brain functions."

"DIAGNOSTICS COMPLETE," answered the nearly curt female voice of the computer system. "STATUS OF HIGHER BRAIN FUNCTIONS REGISTER NORMAL."

Dr. Crusher put away the device, clipped open her tricorder, and swept it over Elizabeth's pale and frightened face. "Initiate complete neural imaging scan."

"COMMAND CONFIRMED. INITIATING COMPLETE NEURAL SCAN."

Dr. Crusher continued sweeping the tricorder over Elizabeth's front of her shaking body. The scan results were announced by the computer.

BEEP! "NEURAL IMAGING SCAN ONE HUNDRED PERCENT COMPLETE. ALL BRAIN FUNCTIONS ARE WITHIN NORMAL PARAMETERS."

Dr. Crusher breathed a sigh of relief as she closed her tricorder. "Apart from a slight chemical release of adrenaline and serotonin, you're perfectly normal, Miss Cole," she said quietly.

Picard took a step forward near Elizabeth's bed. "Can you tell us exactly what happened?" he asked her.

Elizabeth gulped. For her the mental trauma was too much for her to bear. "I…I was having the most dreadful nightmare," she answered quietly, her head hanging. "It was about…"

Picard eyed her carefully. Then after what seemed to be nearly forever Elizabeth raised her head.

"It was about the crucifixion of our Lord," she answered sheepishly.

"Crucifixion of…" Picard stopped in mid-sentence, as he seemed to realize what Elizabeth was talking about. "Oh," he said finally.

"'Twas the most terrible sight to behold," said Elizabeth.

"That's understandable," concurred Picard in a low voice. "A man…hanging on a tree…" he muttered. Then his eyes widened. "Where did you see it?"

"Virtual room," answered Elizabeth.

"A reference to the holodeck," put in Dr. Crusher. "Mr. Data brought her to me to have her checked. I gave her a depressant to calm her nerves down." She looked the captain in the eye. "If Miss Cole is frightened enough by these visions, it is no doubt that whatever holodeck program related to the death of Christ was very, very graphic. Almost too graphic to be witnessed by an 11-year old colonial girl from the 18th century who can't distinguish between reality and fantasy in a holodeck."

Picard sighed. "How is she?"

"Overall, her body is okay, but her mind is…disturbed," replied Dr. Crusher. "This should be the Counselor's expertise."

"Right, I'll bear that in mind in our upcoming discussion" said Picard. "Which will take place after Miss Cole is back in bed, safe and sound."

Dr. Crusher nodded in assent. Ben intervened, as he heaved a heavy and tired sigh. "I'll take her back to our quarters," he said, as he gently helped Elizabeth out of the patient's flatbed and onto her feet. Then he held Elizabeth upright as the two trudged out of the Main Sickbay, with the sliding doors closing behind them.

Picard looked at Dr. Crusher. "You all right, Doctor?" he inquired.

The doctor exhaled a little tiredly. "I'm fine," she answered. "I'm just…a little tired."

Picard gave a sympathetic nod. "No doubt," he concurred. He was reflective for a moment before he poured out his thoughts about the Cole girl's consultation. He faced the doctor again.

"Doctor," he called. Dr. Crusher faced him. "I strongly recommend against the measure of bringing Miss Cole to the Counselor. Miss Cole's nightmares…, as I see it,…are based on her religious heritage. I have…doubts that even the Counselor will be able to alleviate those mental ailments that afflict Miss Cole's otherwise delicate mind.

"You're saying that she has a spiritual sickness that calls for a spiritual cure?"

"Precisely."

Dr. Crusher thought for a moment. "If what she needs is a chaplain to ease whatever aches she has about what she witnessed at the holodeck, I would recommend…" She hesitated.

"Go on," said Picard.

"I'm not sure this should be my expertise, sir, but perhaps she could seek consultation with a chaplain who bears the same religious affiliations with that of Miss Cole."

Picard exhaled. "I appreciate your suggestions, Doctor, but that measure, too, would be inadvisable, given that…the Protestants have been constantly shifting their doctrinal rules over the course of the centuries, as Data has informed me based on the historical records. Whatever was considered morally wrong in Miss Cole's time might be considered morally right, and I do not intend to risk violating the Temporal Prime Directive by having her influenced by newfound beliefs."

Dr. Crusher nodded with a serious face. "I think I know what you're talking about," she said.

"If you'll forgive my opinion…"

"Don't worry; I hold no offense, one way or the other," assured Dr. Crusher. "But just out of curiosity…who…will serve as Elizabeth's spiritual advisor to cure her ailing mental woes?"

Picard made a crafty smile in his bald face. "I know just the one," he said.

* * *

I hope the dialogue wasn't too lame in this chapter, especially during the conversation between Capt. Picard and Dr. Beverly Crusher.


	23. Chapter 23

_**Star Trek: The Next Generation – Souvenirs**_

**Written By:**_** Commander Cody CC-2224**_

Author's Notes:

I do not own Felicity or any of the characters in the Felicity series. I do, however, get to own the new character being introduced in the story, and his name is Chaplain Francis O'Neill Garland. He's an original character in my Star Trek/Felicity fanfic.

* * *

CHAPTER 23

_U.S.S. Enterprise (NCC-1701-D)_

Room 0576, Deck 12

0845 hours

Room 0576 was the temporary residence of a solitary individual in his mid 60's who was known by certain members of the _Enterprise_ crew as a man of God. He was dressed in a uniform black, with long black pants and a long-sleeve shirt with two pockets, one on each side, and a Roman collar attached to the neck area. The shirt almost looked like a shirt of a police uniform, as did the pants itself. Slapped across the man's right shoulder was a long white stripe with the command insignia of the rank of ensign, which came from a red Starfleet uniform dating back to the 2270s to the 2350s. On the left side of his chest was the large Starfleet insignia pin.

His entire head was half-bald, with slightly thick snow-white tufts of hair protruding from the sides of his head in fairly straight white lines. His face had slight wrinkles, yet was very robust, as if he had been in battle during his prime. His medium-brown chocolate eyes were always wide, and his face could be perceived as slightly cross, though not too cross to warrant an interpretation of anger.

That man was Chaplain Francis O'Neill Garland, a slightly flushed pale-skinned half-American, half-Irish Chaplain on board the _Enterprise_ who possessed affiliation with the Roman Catholic Church. Most of the time he never minded being called Reverend, Chaplain, or Chappie, even if his rightful title was Father, which was what most of the Church faithful usually addressed their spiritual leaders. Whether he acted as a man of God was another thing. His personal tastes were for the most part masculine. For instance, he had a longtime habit of smoking, though some of his friends prescribed a type of tobacco that had the smell and taste of real tobacco which could be smoked without suffering from any of the adverse effects that often resulted from smoking as the result of the nicotine of tobacco. He was averse to wearing a cassock, viewing it as type of woman's dress, which would make him appear to be a man in woman's clothing. For footwear he wore sporting combat boots whose origins dated back to the 21st century police and military forces. He was rather worldly, enjoying good food and occasional strong drink. But nearly unlike most of his counterparts, he was an individual who would willingly stay in the world, but at the same time would not completely conform to the world.

Some of his personal tastes were considered by many devote Roman Catholics to be rather scandalous and irreverent. For instance, aside from keeping in possession an ample collection of religious relics gracing his seemingly modest quarters, he kept an excellent acrylic portrait of Jesus of Nazareth wearing a Starfleet uniform of the 2290s, which he kept on his study desk for sentimental reasons, since to him it represented the Church evangelizing all sentient races, humanoid or alien. Some tastes of his were pretty trivial to warrant accusation from the devout; in fact they were part of the American ways and customs. As a firm believer and advocate in the right to keep and bear arms, he kept a replicated Confederate pistol which dated back to the American Civil war, a 21st century charcoal-black Colt .45 M1911 handgun, and a complete collection of phaser weapons comprised of three different phasers used by the Federation: Phaser Type I, II, and III, all of which he kept stowed in the top drawer. Adding to his seeming eccentric weirdness was the fact that he also kept alongside the left side cornerof his desk an old, tarnished, well-worn California automobile license plate that had the gilded seven-character alpha-numerical phrase NERO666, which was given to him by someone who knew from watching a Biblical documentary of John's Revelation featuring the idea that the identity of the man behind the number was presumably the Roman Emperor Nero himself.

The Chaplain's quarters were for the most part modest. The layout comprised of closet-sized bedroom area attached to a living area the size of a regular bedroom. The bedroom area was located at the back of the living area, relative to facing from the entranceway. His desk and leather swivel chair was located at the very right side of the room overlooking the entrance, with a regular curvy 4-legged chair lined with a mahogany leather situated at the front of his desk, which was usually reserved for any clients he would counsel during the rest of his journey on board. His bed was located in the bedroom area, with its length situated in the wide area, and the pillow positioned on the right side. On his little cabinet near the right side facing the front was a little cabinet, which had a picture of Jesus and his Sacred Heart perched on top of the polished wooden surface. On the middle area of the left side of the wall was a 13x6 portrait depicting a traditional Divine Mercy, which was said to have been based on a vision of a Polish nun by the name of Sr. Faustina Kowalska from the 1930s.

At the present, Chaplain Garland was busying himself with reading a newspaper, reclined on his swivel chair, with his legs crossed over the surface of his desk. The personal computer on his desk near his masculine Jesus portrait was playing the _Aria_ at low volume, in stereo quality mode. In just a moment the door chime rang its two audible beeps.

"Come," called the Chaplain in a semi-gruff manner.

The automatic sliding doors opened and in entered Capt. Picard, who was ushering in Elizabeth Cole. She was standing with grace, with her hands clasped downwards, near the upward part of her gown's skirts.

Elizabeth's eyes widened at the sight of the Chaplain's soles of his boots over the desk. Immediately the Chaplain put down his newspaper.

"Ah. Come, come in," he greeted.

Both Picard and Elizabeth stepped into the Chaplain's homely quarters, and the automatic sliding doors closed behind them.

"Reverend," began Picard as he smiled genially. "I would like to introduce to you Miss Elizabeth Cole. She, along with her friends, arrived to this century from Middle Colony of Virginia of the late 18th century."

Elizabeth bobbed a graceful curtsy. "How do you do, Reverend," she greeted.

"Miss Cole, this is the Reverend Francis O'Neill Garland, the temporary chaplain on board the _Enterprise_."

"Hello, Miss," he said carelessly, waving his right hand.

Elizabeth looked at the captain. "Temporary?" she asked.

"He'll be heading back to Earth when the _Enterprise_ succeeds in getting back to Federation space."

Picard braced himself like a military officer. "Well. I'll leave you two to get acquainted with each other. The chaplain will be glad to answer any questions you have. Is that right, Reverend?"

"Yes, sir," he replied in his slight Southern drawl, drawing a salute.

With a courteous nod Picard left the room. The sliding doors closed.

Elizabeth was admiring the surroundings of the Chaplain's quarters from where she was standing with wide-eyed wonder. The Chaplain stared at her in fascination.

"You can come a little closer, Miss," he said clearly. "I don't bite."

Elizabeth approached the Chaplain cautiously. "R-Reverend?" she inquired.

"Yeah," replied the Chaplain. "Actually, I'm Fr. Francis Garland of the Society of Jesus. The Jesuits, ya know."

Elizabeth looked at him even more wide-eyed. Her avid blue eyes almost sparkled in the fluorescent light that bathed the entire room.

"But of course almost everyone on board call me 'Reverend'. Few call me 'Father', and some call me 'Chaplain', or 'Chappie' or 'Chap' for short. But if you're so damn used to callin' me Reverend, well…that's sure as hell fine with me."

Now Elizabeth was almost shocked. "You…you're a Papist!" she exclaimed quietly.

The Chaplain burst into a series of guffaws. Elizabeth gave him a demurely serious look.

"You…you could say that," replied the Chaplain. "The actual term we use is…'Catholic', but for the most part,…um,…you could call me that term if you want. But it's kind of derogatory."

This time Elizabeth started feeling a tad ashamed, because rather than exchanging another insulting term the Chaplain just simply took the flak by allowing her the liberty of calling him that. However, she maintained her composure.

"The reverend at Bruton Parish always said that 'Catholics' were always in cahoots with the devil himself."

The Chaplain again burst into nearly uncontrollable laughter. "Bruton Parish, eh?" he asked. "That so?"

Elizabeth nodded. "Aye," she replied.

Chaplain Garland snorted to himself. "Well, for now, I sure as hell don't think you're gonna have to worry about such things, Miss. If we were, as you say, in 'cahoots with Satan himself', we'd be…hmm…how do I say this…" He looked pensive for a moment. "…We'd be temptin' you to do all sorts of things that society considers inherently immoral."

"Pray, like what?"

"Like, for example, taking sexual advantage of a proper young lady like you."

Elizabeth recoiled. "You don't say," she said disapprovingly.

"Well then. Perhaps you as lady would be kind enough to forgive me for my utter bluntness."

Elizabeth kept a straight face.

"If it makes you feel a little more comfortable," said the Chaplain. "You're more than welcome to look around the room. Just…refrain from touchin' anything, as there are a lot of breakables in here."

Elizabeth suited herself to taking a tour of the room. The surroundings were welcoming, save for the radio music that was playing from the Chaplain's personal computer. All sorts of memorabilia graced the Chaplain's quarters, from mini-crucifixes to antique firearms. She caught sight of a large Divine Mercy painting on the left side of the wall, as well as a gilded crucifix pinned to a Starfleet insignia, which was situated in the middle of his dresser near the bed. She also took a careful glance at a Byzantine icon of the Madonna with Child, which hung at the front of his bed.

Elizabeth faced the Chaplain. "Who is the lady in the picture?" she inquired curiously.

Immediately Chaplain Garland shut off the music and moseyed to the area in his quarters where Elizabeth was standing. "Hmm?" he asked in a friendly tone of voice.

Elizabeth pointed her right hand index finger at the image. Garland eyed where the girl's finger was pointing.

"That one?" he asked rather brashly.

Elizabeth looked at the Chaplain, nodding.

"Oh," answered the Chaplain. "That…is the Russian Catholic icon of the Madonna with Child. It's also known officially as the image of Our Lady of Kazan."

Elizabeth's demeanor hinted confusion.

"Just in case you ain't familiar with it, to be a little more specific, the lady in the picture is Mary the Mother of God. And…the wee babe in her arms is…the Christ Child.

This reply alerted Elizabeth, who was shocked in wonder. _An icon?_ she asked herself. _To worship?_

"You _worship_ her?" she asked in dismay.

The Chaplain glanced briefly at the image before chortling to himself. "An all-too-common accusation made by the Protestants concerning the rather touchy subject of the veneration of Mary," he muttered to himself. He raised his voice as he faced Elizabeth. "On the contrary, Miss," he answered further. "We _venerate_ her, not _worship_ her in a manner fit only for God. Big difference."

"What do you mean, venerate her?" Elizabeth asked inquisitively.

"Honor her," replied the Chaplain. "You know, hold her in certain esteem."

Elizabeth was still confused. A silence filled the room, which lasted for a few seconds.

"You wanna what that word means, I can look it up. If you want."

"Please," requested Elizabeth.

Chaplain Garland moseyed to the closet and brought out a replicated Webster's dictionary. Setting it on the side of his bed he browsed through the assorted words in the letter "V" until he came upon the word. He motioned Elizabeth over, and upon encountering the definition, mulled over it. Then she looked back at the icon.

"What about the second commandment?" she asked further.

The Chaplain had an idea as to what the second commandment of the Decalogue stated, though he tendered suspicions that Elizabeth might refer to a different version. "What second commandment?" he asked.

Elizabeth glanced at the Chaplain, dismayed. "Don't you remember?" she asked. "The Ten Commandments. The second commandment says, "Though shalt not worship any graven imagery."

The Chaplain burst into nearly uncontrollable laughter. "Oh," he replied. "You're referring to the Protestant version of the Decalogue. Well…the version of the second commandment that we have is different, and it pertains to the subject of taking the name of God in vain, which, as you may perceive from your point of view, I do too frequently than is generally liked. As for 'graven imagery', that is different. In this case, Mary the Mother of God is held in esteem by us…Catholics…or 'Papists', if you will…and is our intercessor; our _Mediator Dei_, or Mediator of God."

Elizabeth was still confused. And shy.

Chaplain Garland sat on the side of his bed and faced Elizabeth. "You're Anglican, aren't ya? The one from the group belongin' to the Church of England?"

"Aye," replied Elizabeth. "Tis the Christian religion I belong to."

"Figures," replied the Chaplain, shrugging his shoulders. "I seem to have the impression that this would be the dominant denomination of the area where you live in."

The Chaplain heaved a sigh. "Um…this subject is gonna involve very lengthy explanation, Miss Cole, and as much as I would love very much to explain all this to you, the captain asked me to find out about these nightmares you were having. According to him and the doctor, these nightmares of yours seem to be related to your religious beliefs."

Elizabeth hung her head bashfully as she took her seat near the Chaplain's left side. "Well…I suppose we should discuss that." She looked up. "Should we?"

* * *

I hope I wasn't too lame with the dialogue between Chaplain Garland and Elizabeth Cole. Hope you don't mind the religious aspects in this chapter.

A/N (1): American Girl and the author of the _Felicity: An American Girl_ series don't explicitly mention the religious affiliation of Felicity and family and friends, but their religious affiliations can be inferred by the fact that [Colonial] Williamsburg's local church building, which is Bruton Parish Church, is Anglican Protestant Christian. And Felicity and her family and friends attend that church. So logically Felicity and friends must have Anglican religious affiliations.

A/N (2): In regard to the NERO666 license plate, the idea was derived from the fact that my dad owned a used Mazda RX7 from the 1980s with a 7-character ID, as would have been custom of state regulation. Also, I was fascinated by the idea of the number 666, which presumably stood for the Emperor Nero, from what I've learned from watching an Avery Brooks documentary about the Revelation of St. John the Gospel writer.


	24. Chapter 24

_**Star Trek: The Next Generation – Souvenirs**_

**Written By:**_** Commander Cody CC-2224**_

CHAPTER 24

Main Engineering

0917 hours, next day

Geordi La Forge was near the left side of the "pool table" facing relative from the foyer area, busy listing stuff on his PADD when Ben walked in to the foyer area. He looked up from his work.

"Ah. What can I do for you, man?" he asked.

"I have a request to make," replied Ben.

"Obviously," remarked La Forge. "Shoot."

"Would it be all right if I viewed…the 'memory logs' of Felicity Merriman?"

La Forge looked down at his PADD and made a face. Then he looked up again and sighed.

"All right, but don't let her know you've been snooping through her private memories. Follow me."

Both La Forge and Ben passed the warp engine section until they arrived to the Chief Engineer's office. La Forge sifted through one of the drawers of his office desk until he pulled up the tricorder distinctively labeled "Felicity Merriman".

"Here," said La Forge. "Now in order to utilize this device you have to plug it into that large port on the left side of a personal computer," he continued, as he plugged the tricorder's top into the left side of the personal computer perched on his desk. "You do happen to have something like this in your quarters, do you?"

"Aye," replied Ben. "I dare say I do have something like that."

"Then you're in luck. Once you do that, you hit the play button and _voila_. Your show starts."

Ben watched intently at the screen as the motion picture of Felicity's POV when she was three years old played on the screen. La Forge immediately detached the tricorder from his personal computer.

"And that's pretty much it," said La Forge, as he handed the tricorder to Ben, who looked at the device he was carrying in the right palm of his hand. Ben looked up.

"Thank you, good sir," he said.

La Forge sighed. "Don't mention it," he replied.

Ben immediately left the room as La Forge shook his head in a rather disapproving manner.

* * *

Guest Quarters (Room 0313), Deck 10

The room was quiet, with not another soul present, aside from Ben himself. He immediately followed the same procedure that La Forge taught him briefly as he attempted to attach the tricorder to the personal computer that perched on the desk. After clicking the required touch-buttons, the show was on.

The first thing that he witnessed at the very beginning was the part when Felicity was three years old. Everything that Ben observed in the memory logs were all from Felicity's point of view. He could observe Felicity acting like a walking, talking, three-year-old, making baby-like noises.

After fast-forwarding for nearly a minute he came to the part where Mrs. Merriman, Felicity, Nan, and William were attending the Williamsburg fair, and how Felicity attempted to take a dare with the horses and ended up injured as a result. Fast-forwarding a little, he came to the part where he could see himself as a 15-year-old during his first day at the Merrimans' household.

But the thing that got him upset to the point of resentment was the way how Mrs. Merriman doted upon her eldest daughter, and how he was viewed by most of the acquaintances and members of the Merriman family, such as Felicity's deceased Grandfather. He came across a part where Mrs. Merriman and the children were dining with Grandfather, when Nan said something that seemed to touch off a spark of resentment within him.

_"I hate Ben," said Nan._

_"Nan," said Mrs. Merriman disapprovingly._

_"Well, I do," continued Nan. "He ruined everything."_

After witnessing how he was personally scolded and shamed by Felicity when he tried to run away to join Washington's army, he came across the part where Felicity's Grandfather call him obstinate, and how he should have been imprisoned for breaking his contract with Mr. Merriman; the words "Ridiculous. The lad should be imprisoned", as well as his professions of "doubt about the lad" reverberated in his mind as they were repeated in the memory logs. He started having hurt feelings about being spurned by Felicity's Grandfather, such did the parts where Felicity was with her Grandfather act as an implication that Grandfather was playing favorites with the girls, especially Felicity herself.

* * *

Chaplain Garland's Quarters (Room 0576)

O921 hours

Both Elizabeth and the Chaplain were in the main living area for a second time during the morning hours discussing mildly controversial topics, both on religion and on the Chaplain's personal life. The entire room had a serene setting and atmosphere, and was, in itself, a serene location, almost away from the mundanities of the ship. The entire surroundings were very welcoming for Elizabeth, in spite of all the strangeness around her. Just the very presence of a wooden crucifix near the back wall facing Chaplain Garland's width bedside, coupled with a tone-downed appearance of a statue of a crucified Christ figure attached to the crucifix itself, was enough to make her feel at home, for to her it represented some semblance of Christianity in the room itself.

Elizabeth was seated on the mahogany leather-lined chair while the Chaplain was attempting to light up what appeared to be a Cuban cigar with his shiny silver cigarette lighter. A fairly sudden puff of homely-smelling cigar smoke emanated from the front end of the cigar as he switched off the lighter. Elizabeth watched astounded as the yellow-orange candle flare suddenly lit off, her avid blue eyes wide with astronomical wonder at such a strange-looking device.

"Wow," marveled Elizabeth. "I…I dare say…I have never seen anything like this before. When my father occasionally took a good smoke he used a snuffbox."

"Yup," replied the Chaplain briskly. "That's 'cause such special weren't invented till the 20th century. Nearly a century after your time."

"Wow," marveled Elizabeth again. The thin, wispy cigar smoke floated across the room. Even if her father indulged in an occasional smoke, the smell bothered her a bit. The Chaplain could notice it as well, and sympathy came from a perception from his point of view that Elizabeth was concerned about the smoke because it would affect her health in a rather unfavorable manner.

"If you think that stuff's gonna harm ya, not to worry, Miss," he assured. "This ain't real baccy, ya know."

Elizabeth keenly observed the type of cigar that the Chaplain was smoking with great relish. "I have never seen that type of cigar, Reverend," she said. "Do you mind if I inquire as to what it is your smoking?"

"Cubans," answered the Chaplain in his typical brisk manner. "Said to be the most expensive type of special cigars made in Cuba. They were considered a luxury 'cause of them Commies, and prior to the 22nd century the United States didn't have no diplomatic relations with that godforsaken country. Well, all that has changed, and a lot of folks can enjoy what has once been considered an expensive luxury. Only, what I'm currently using at the moment ain't the real thing. It's replicated."

Elizabeth was sort of assured by that remark, though her curiosity regarding the reality of the substance piqued her mind. "Then, pray, what is it, Reverend?"

"'Synthebacco'," answered the Chaplain. "It's a type of smoking agent that smells like real baccy, only it ain't real. It's synthetic, which means that the substance itself was engineered to smell and act like it."

"So the smoke isn't real?" asked Elizabeth.

"Nope. The smoke's real enough, as you can plainly see, but the substance itself ain't."

"Hmm," thought Elizabeth. She was a little more confused about the whole smoke thing; such things were beyond what a proper young lady in her time would normally know.

"This thing was prescribed by my friends 'cause my smoking habit was, regrettably, difficult to break. It has the tang of real baccy, but you can smoke it and smoke it and not feel none of the unhealthy side effects that come as a result of smokin' the real thing."

The last statement was enough to make Elizabeth a little jumpy with worry. "Pray, what…side effects…are we talking about, Reverend?" she asked.

"Short life span…which generally results from the God-awful particles in the lungs, as well as the shrinkage of the blood vessels."

Elizabeth was still even more confused.

"Judging by that confused look on your pretty face, Miss Cole, I'd say such knowledge has obviously not been extant around your time."

"Of…of course not…Reverend," faltered Elizabeth. "I…I definitely have no idea what you mean, but you seem to make quite a blunt point that smoking is…bad."

"Well, people have been making quite a ruckusin' taboo about the whole thing," shrugged Garland. "Can't really blame 'em."

"Well in that case I shall certainly endeavor not to smoke such things in my life," answered Elizabeth.

"That'd be good, Miss," replied the Chaplain. "Though if you ever go back to your time I would strongly caution you about spouting off such things to your family members, friends, and acquaintances, 'cause I'm just as certain that they don't know jack about the medical expertise on the smoking issue, especially the side of not-smoking, plus, it's certain as hell you're gonna be up against criticisms that will embarrass you and tarnish your otherwise honorable reputation for the rest of your natural life."

Elizabeth meekly nodded in agreement. _All this is very strange to me_, she thought to herself. _I don't think I can take anymore of this strangeness_. Then a thought hit her on asking the Chaplain about his religiosity.

"Forgive me for saying this, but do you mind if I ask a personal question to you, Reverend?" she asked. "My curiosity piques me so."

"Not at all, Missy," answered the Chaplain.

Elizabeth started chuckling nervously to herself. "I'm sorry, Reverend. 'Tis just that children in my time have to refrain from asking personal questions to people held in high regard. What you are doing…goes against the conventions of my time."

"I pretty much flout conventions all the time, Miss, so that ain't something I worry my head over with," replied the Chaplain. "Speak freely."

Elizabeth nervously cleared her throat. "Do you hold religion to be an important part of your life?"

The Chaplain started bursting into almost uncontrollable laughter as he reclined on his seat. "That's…that's the most common, number one question that all the respectable lads and lassies of the Church community always keep asking me. 'Is…religion…an…important…part…of…your…life.'".

Elizabeth's blue eyes were troubled and betrayed hints of nervousness. "Have I said something wrong, Reverend?" she asked rather timidly.

"No, no, Missy," replied the Chaplain, trying to control his seemingly incessant habit to laugh whenever a controversial topic came up across his very face. "On the contrary. Just couldn't help laughing is all."

"Then…if I haven't, would you be kind enough to answer my query?" asked Elizabeth as politely and gracefully as she could.

Chaplain Garland cleared his throat. "Answer is 'was', Missy," he said in reply, "When I was held prisoner in the Cardassian mines; we'll get into that later, so hold your lady-ish fretting for the time being. Before then, not really. Later in my life, when I decided for some reason other than a whim than the fact that I was called by God to serve His people in a manner more holy, and as a result entered his ministry, serving people and God as a chaplain on board a handful of Federation vessels.

"Sounds like quite an interesting adventure you had, Reverend," remarked Elizabeth, beaming. "In my time I usually don't expect the ministers to have stories as interesting as those you tell over the dining table."

"That's 'cause clerical ministers in general are mostly bookworms and pedagogues of religiosity," said the Chaplain in a rather blunt manner. "They feast more on books and theological matters and less on experience with the world. Whole reason why you see an individual as unique to you is 'cause I had quite an ample amount of the latter and a fair amount of the former, if you'll forgive me for what you may, as a respectable Christian, perceive to be as lack of modesty."

"I dare say, most respectable ministers would take offense at such a remark," said Elizabeth.

"The hell they would," replied the Chaplain. "Can't really blame 'em. I would, if I were one of them ministers."

"But you aren't," remarked Elizabeth sweetly.

"'Cause I'm different from 'em. And generally that's what makes 'em all manner of pharisaical. I'm mostly an open-minded individual for a Papist, just as you are for a sweet little Anglican. Which from my point of view is all the more luckier 'cause I'd rather have an Anglican Protestant girl-human criticizing me about the faith I was brought up in than have a hardcore Puritan with a fireman's hatchet trashing the hell out of my room like a whirlwind from hell just because he thinks it's 'popish'."

Elizabeth could not help chuckling nervously and blushing and at the same time feel a tad uncomfortable with the semi-offensive phraseologies that the Chaplain had a habit of using.

"You flatter me so, Reverend, more than I feel comfortable with,"

said Elizabeth.

"Habit, I suppose," replied the Chaplain, shrugging his shoulders. "Figure, keeps me human on the journey back to Rome Sweet Home; actually, back to my native state of California after all the terrible stuff I've encountering during the past few to several years of my life."

"What sort of terrible things?" inquired Elizabeth sympathetically.

"That's something to be reserved in my near-future storytelling, Missy. I prefer to savor such things for the excited audiences."

"Oh," laughed Elizabeth politely. "Might I also inquire as to what the significance of your native state of 'California' is?"

"Oh. It's a U.S. state located on the Eastern Seaboard. Thirty-first state to be carved out of what used to be Mexican territory around the early 1850s. It's basically where I grew up." He mused at his thoughts for a moment. "Besides, that's where seminary where I graduated, which is known as the St. George Soros Seminary in Baja California, is. Southern part, specifically."

"I dare say, my mind is overwhelmed by such strange-sounding names."

"Best that you didn't ask to much about those things. That would be in violation of the Temporal Prime Directive, and at the moment, I ain't looking to get my fluffy little bald head delivered to the T.P.D."

"'T.P.D.?'"

"Temporal Bureau of Investigation."

"Oh," replied Elizabeth. For a moment she seemed somewhat relaxed, due to the fact that both she and the Chaplain could converse with each other freely without having to abide by the nitty-gritty details on clerical ordinances regarding how men of God should be treated in a respectable manner.

Chaplain Garland mused for a few seconds. "Well. Now that you've got to ask questions which most respectable people would regard as mighty intrusive, I dare say it's my turn to ask what would appear to be a few mighty intrusive questions to you."

"Intrusive?" asked Elizabeth a little nervously. "Like what took place during my childhood?"

"Yeah, but it don't concern no medical history of yours. This concerns a teeny-weeny aspect of your religiosity as a child."

Elizabeth smiled. "All right, but I would ask you kindly to refrain from asking questions about some embarrassing things I did as a child when I didn't know better."

"Such as?"

Elizabeth's pretty face started to redden in embarrassment. "Such as the time when I unintentionally threw up in church during a particular service taking place in London when I was two years old."

The Chaplain guffawed voraciously. "You puked? Literally?"

"'Puked?'" asked Elizabeth confusedly.

"You know, throw up. Vomit. Or something like that."

Elizabeth nodded nervously in embarrassment.

"Boy, no wonder you was so embarrassed by that."

"Aye, 'tis true. To make matters even worse my older sister Annabelle kept making me embarrassed by that incident in front of her friends and acquaintances. That was before we moved from England to the Colonies when I was nine years of age, and my sister, fifteen."

"I do say, that was a hell of an incident you had back long ago," remarked the Chaplain. "Now on to the matters of religiosity, if you wouldn't mind."

"I'm not minding at all, Reverend."

"Good girl. Now here's the million-dollar question. Just out of curiosity, was there a special time when God…if you happen to believe in him and his ultimate goodness, had a very strong influence in a certain incident that occurred in your life?"

"I do believe in God," said Elizabeth in a firm manner as that of an eleven-year-old. "But, pray, what do you mean by that?"

"That's a good sign I'm seeing, 'cause that tells me that you ain't no frickin' atheist."

"Atheist?" asked Elizabeth inquisitively. _Another strange term for me_, she thought to herself.

"One who rejects the notion that an all-heavenly entity exists in this crap-heeled 'verse." The Chaplain cleared his throat. "Back to the topic at hand, I'm talking about a certain predicament that you ended up getting yourself into, and all of a sudden…there was a way to get out of it."

"Oh. I remember the time back in the winter of 1775 when my sister wanted very much, impulsively, mind you, to marry a nobleman named Lord Harry Lacey. But that would mean that I would be parted from my best friend, who lives in the Colonies."

"Hmm."

"However, she managed to come to her senses when she wanted people to respect her for what she does rather than for what her name is."

Chaplain Garland nodded in a genial sort of way. "From what I can seem to perceive, it could be that only the grace of God would have made that possible, Miss Cole."

Elizabeth smiled lightly, as if a troubling thought hit her very head. "Though I seriously doubt that Annabelle will ever change," she said rather ruefully. "She still acts kind of snooty."

"Well," replied the Chaplain, clicking his tongue. "Change, or changes, if you will, take quite an awful lot of time, Miss." He looked rather pensive for a moment. "Perhaps she'll need quite an awful lot of teaching on how to see the other side of everything that she thinks is grand in nature. In other words, she'll eventually have to come to the realization that the grass may not be always greener on the other side of the hill."

Elizabeth nodded lightly. "You may be right, Reverend."

"Do you believe that at the bottom of your heart?"

"Well,…that's why I said you 'may' be right, as opposed…um…as opposed…" Elizabeth's face started blushing in embarrassment, as she found herself in the thick of trouble trying to find the right word.

"To absolute rightness," finished the Chaplain in a sort of understanding manner.

Elizabeth quieted herself, mesmerizing the serene atmosphere of the Chaplain's quarters, until another thought hit her.

"I just figure that while I'm still here, I would like to ask you another question."

"Anything."

"When does religion become important to a person's life?"

Chaplain Garland clasped his hands together and stamped them moderately on the desk surface. "That question pretty much depends on the person you're asking, Missy," he replied.

"Well," said Elizabeth rather sheepishly, "As you seem to be quite a learned and witty reverend, that's why I'm asking you. As a friend."

The Chaplain put his clasped hands near his chin, while his elbows were on the desk. "Religion hadn't been exactly had a place of importance in my personal life, if your curious mind is left a-wondering," he replied.

"So when did it?" asked Elizabeth.

Chaplain Garland pondered the question for a moment. The he briskly got up from his seat and headed to a fairly well-maintained polished wooden bookshelf, where he fished out an antique-looking, half-worn paper-back copy of Aldous Huxley's _Brave New World_. Then he sat back down on his desk chair.

"What is that?" asked Elizabeth.

"A copy of Aldous Huxley's classic 20th century British novel titled _Brave New World_. Yes, Huxley was a Brit, just like you. The title itself is derived directly from the quote of the Shakespearian play _The Tempest_, which I take you might have seen while you and your family were in London?"

"We took the opportunity to see a play like that," replied Elizabeth. When I was little. But you really think that the answer to my query lies in that book you have?"

"Somewhat. There's a rather memorable quote near the ending of this novel, which concerns a materialistic argument against the necessity of God in a person's life"

The Chaplain cast a stare at Elizabeth, whose avid blue eyes were wide-eyed with bewilderment at the very idea of a society without God. The Chaplain started reading the quote aloud in the manner of a schoolteacher.

"It says here, 'You can only be independent of God while you've got youth…and prosperity; independence won't take you safely to the end." He paused for a moment, as he savored Elizabeth's sort of confused and wondering look in her face before he continued reading. "'Well, we've got youth…and prosperity right up to the end. What follows? Evidently, that we can be independent of God.'" The Chaplain clapped the book closed and stamped it flat on his desk. "Evidently the argument basically says that society can function without God if planted under these seemingly ideal circumstances."

"But that can't be!" cried Elizabeth almost indignantly. She was usually reserved during every conversation topic, but to her, the very idea of the denial of existence of God was totally unacceptable to her, as would to her friends, and everyone else in their time. She had almost every reason to be upset over that atheistic notion. Back in her time, such a notion was considered very unacceptable, given the situation of religion and state being intertwined.

The Chaplain felt rather amused by Elizabeth's reaction to the atheist's denial of a need for God or a God that he started chuckling to himself over the current matter at hand. "Yup," he agreed almost right away. "That notion seems to go against Franklin's notion that God governs in the affairs of men."

"Who's Franklin?" Elizabeth inquired politely but in a rather perplexed manner. Chaplain Garland was making a reference to Benjamin Franklin, America's most influential and witty scientist and philosopher, but, of course, Elizabeth had never heard of him inte first place. And the Chaplain himself knew this by the puzzled look on Elizabeth's face.

"Never heard of him?" asked the Chaplain.

Elizabeth shook her head.

"Shame. Almost every red-blooded American considers that name as part and parcel of the typical American household. Recruited as a printer, wrote _Poor Richard's Almanac_, invented the Franklin Stove, chained the lightning. Witty individual he was, in a humorous way. One of the signers of the Declaration of Independence." He stopped for a moment. "One of my personal heroes whom I take a rather fond liking to."

"You do?" asked Elizabeth.

"Yup."

"Now as to the document you've mentioned, I've heard bits and pieces of it when I was in Ten-Forward," said Elizabeth. "Well, perhaps little of what I know. 'Tis rumored to be a revolutionary document."

"Indeed it is, Missy," replied the Chaplain. "Now getting back to the point about independence from God, the point is that that same thing almost happened to me during my captivity. Yes, Missy, nobody ain't perfect, not even me as a man of God."

Elizabeth looked at the Chaplain in awe, as she sort of marveled at how the Chaplain was willing to reveal his seemingly scandalous faults. In fact, she even kind of admired him for his bravery in not feeling embarrassed to discuss them at all.

"Tosh," said the Chaplain. "It's a personal habit of mine. Now, best that you knew little of the digressing stuff I was including in our discussion, cause that would go against the Temporal Prime Directive. I'm…I'm divulging far too much than what I'm not supposed to, Miss Cole, so, as a friend, I'm personally pleading that you don't get me into trouble by asking too many questions about the future, or even divulging what I've been telling you to your friends. Clear?"

"Aye," replied Elizabeth. She looked around the room again, while seated. As she glanced at the portrait of Jesus of Nazareth in a Starfleet uniform, her eyes widened in dismay. She immediately regained her composure.

"I dare say, you do have remarkably bizarre tastes, Reverend."

"Why, thank you, Miss Cole," replied the Chaplain.

Elizabeth looked demurely serious at him. "That isn't really something to be proud of," she said solemnly.

"Course it ain't," the Chaplain replied a little briskly. "Not to certain people anyway."

"Pardon me for saying this, Reverend, but are you implying scandal in your church?"

"Somewhat. But customs are quite different in this century, Little Miss Bess. What don't seem so reverential and proper in your time may actually be acceptable in another. Granted, we take morality into consideration as well, so not to worry."

Elizabeth daintily cleared her throat for another question. "Speaking of your church, I'm rather curious as to what people in your congregation do."

Chaplain Garland burst into a rather irreverential fit of guffaws. "Now that's the type of talk that can get you and your loved ones in trouble with the theocratic authorities, Miss Cole, so if you value your life and your reputation, best keep quiet about it." He thought for a moment. "In my church…no, no, no, that ain't no reverential way to phrase it…in Christ's Church, we…"papists" do all sorts of things that you and your Anglican compatriots would consider…downright weird, and not only weird, downright unnatural, downright irreverent, and downright creepifying. I'll give you some kind of brief overview, ya know, as a tip of the iceberg. First thing, we regard Mary the Mother of God as a teen idol to be _worshipped_ as some kind of goddess; she's a mediator put in the role to function as a middle man…or rather, middle lady, for regulating the flow of prayer messages between the souls of the world and the Almighty God, as well as relaying them messages from the former to the latter. Another thing…and this may come as a shock to you, Missy, we abide by the notion that Jesus of Nazareth, the Christ, is unmistakably present in the Eucharist, or to be more specific, in the _appearance_ of bread and wine, as opposed to the _substance_. Third…" he stopped, as he looked and snickered at Elizabeth's confused look.

"I'm…afraid I don't quite understand," said a confused Elizabeth.

"Yup. Could take you an awful lot of years to understand those notions we Catholics hold dear. These fundamental doctrines took quite an awful lot of debate and apologetic writing, if you ever read Church history."

"And not only do I not quite understand them, I'm almost finding them to be quite preposterous notions," declared Elizabeth almost determinedly, squinting her face a little bit.

Chaplain Garland bolted himself upright in his chair almost rigidly, heaving a slight humorous-looking frown. "Hey! I just told you what the Church and all her faithful members believe. You've got a problem with that, Missy, then I suggest you take it up with the Almighty Son. He's the one who came up with that stuff, you know. Besides, that's what comes with holding religious affiliation with the Church. Can't really change the doctrinal settings at whim." He paused for a moment. "Which brings me to another third notion. We Catholics believe in a doctrine called _Extra Ecclesiam Nulla Salus_, which basically translated from the Latin language means that outside the Church fold, there ain't no salvation."

Elizabeth did not know whether to retort, or to just simply take the flak. _Outside the Church…no salvation?_ she asked herself confoundedly in her mind. _That's…that's impossible! We were always taught…_ Now she was somewhat fuming within herself, and she began to start asking questions in her head regarding whether to trust that strange Chaplain. _I don't know whether to trust this Chaplain. We were always taught that Papists were always in league with the Devil. Who is he to make such judgments about such things, when he might…just might be possibly in league with him?_

Then her eleven-year-old mind hit upon an idea. _Perhaps I can retort a little bit…take my chances…and see what happens next. The Chaplain seems friendly to me, even if we have our religious differences…and I'm kind of afraid he might take offense and do something bad to me…but his ideas…oh, well, I'll see what happens._

After what appeared to be a long time in settling her mind on what to do in what appeared in actuality to be a few seconds of brainstorming, he regained her composure. In a somewhat shocked, indignant tone of voice, as she mustered up her courage despite her timidity, she said, "Reverend, I dare say I would have my soul sent to hell if I were to join your Church!"

To her own surprise and dismay, the Chaplain burst into a seemingly uncontrollable fit of hearty guffaws. Then Elizabeth started frowning a little bit in a disapproving manner.

"That's not very funny," she said in a rather cross manner.

"If that's what you want to believe, then go ahead," replied the Chaplain in the midst of his hearty laughs. "The Church can only propose her beliefs, not impose them." His laughter was getting somewhat voluntary.

"Reverend Garland!" exclaimed Elizabeth, mustering up her courage again in her precocious attempt to bring the seemingly strange and irreverent Chaplain to his senses. "You are quite despicable!"

The Chaplain started snickering again. "How dare you!" he replied in a mock tone of voice, laughing further.

Elizabeth cased a serious look on the Chaplain, and he stopped laughing somewhat.

"You can't help my being humorous, Missy," said the Chaplain. "I've been struggling to regain that habit after being imprisoned in the Cardassian dilithium mines."

Suddenly Elizabeth became wide-eyed with a sense of compassion in her petite eleven-year-old personality. "You…you were imprisoned?" she asked, faltering.

"Yes, that's right," replied the Chaplain rather tersely in a serious tone of voice.

Elizabeth adjusted herself in a proper seating manner and tenderly clasped her hands on the upper part of the skirts of her gown. "Oh, Reverend," she said rather sorrowfully, "I'm so sorry to hear that. I do beseech your forgiveness for acting…well…" she couldn't seem to find the right words.

Chaplain Garland made a face that seemed to indicate that he didn't need a whole lot of sympathy for his past plight.

"What was it like?" asked Elizabeth as tactfully as she could.

"Twas awfully damn near unpleasant," replied the Chaplain ruefully, shaking his head. "Terrible. Just terrible. The conditions were such that a young man who didn't have as much as of an ounce of faith left in his soul, even if his body was famished to the point of ignominious determination. Could literally suffer horribly in that place and die of an early age."

"Oh, dear God," said Elizabeth quietly. "How log were you imprisoned there?"

About thirteen months, give or take. Thirteen months may seem to you to be a mild punishment in your timeline, and in the Federation's humane penal colonies, but in there…" The Chaplain involuntarily shook his head as part of his quirks. "…Anyone could literally die even before a month is over; perhaps even before a week, if it comes to the faint of heart. Believe me when I say that being consigned to such a place as that is just like being condemned to the depths of hell."

There was a brief moment of silence before the Chaplain continued his short little narrative about his past plight.

"There were times when I kept a-thinking to my self, 'What have I done to deserve this?'", he continued. "All I did was fight for what I believed to be right in my conscience, even if it meant fighting alongside the renegade Maquis against the Federation on account of the issue of appeasing the Cardassians, when they were notorious for their brutalities in wartime." The Maquis were a renegade group outlawed by the United Federation of Planets that fought against those who dared appeased the Cardassians. "And there I was, suffering punishment all because I joined for what I thought was an honorable cause."

Elizabeth nodded. She gently put her hands on the Chaplain's crossed hands. Chaplain Garland felt quiet touched by this physical gesture of sympathy.

"That's awfully touching of you, Miss Cole," he said.

Elizabeth nodded sheepishly as she gently took her hands off the Chaplain's hands. Chaplain Garland gradually regained his sense of sense of humor as he briskly got up from his swivel chair. "Well, I think we've hand quite enough of this doom and gloom legacy I've had," he concurred. He opened the very top middle drawer of his desk and fished out a six-inch perfume bottle containing a type of perfume for freshening up rooms. It had a sensationally sweet tang of honey. Garland inhaled the perfume with great relish.

"Mmm. Fresh perfume; non-replicated," he remarked genially. "Believe me when I say it's sweeter than the word of God."

"Well, pardon me for saying this, Reverend," said Elizabeth coyly, "But I thought the word of God was sweeter than honey from a comb."

"So the Psalms say," replied the Chaplain, as he corked the bottle back and stuffed it back into the drawer. "In a literal sense, the perfume may be kind of sweeter than a single word."

The Chaplain paused for a moment before resuming his conversation with his petite little client.

"Just…out of curiosity, do you happen to have any friends on board?" he asked Elizabeth.

* * *

Ben spent the next several minutes viewing through Felicity's memories on the personal computer. For him things had gotten to the point where he thought the whole thing was just too much for him to bear.

This was too much. For him. After fast-forwarding, rewinding, and streaming through the memory logs from beginning to near end, he angrily detached the tricorder from the personal computer, threw it into the middle drawer, and slammed it shut. He wanted very much to join Washington's army; and he was shamed and humiliated by both Grandfather, and by the daughter of the master to whom he was apprenticed to. And it was not just that. All through the trip, he felt that Felicity kept scolding him about what he did. It was too much. Tossing all shreds of honor, he felt an uncontrollable, fiery determination, to leave. Not just the _Enterprise_, but also the century he was in, and go back to 1776 in any was possible to make his mark in history. And this time he wasn't going to let even the seemingly determined Felicity Merriman stop him. _Not this time,_ he thought to himself determinedly. _Not this time_.

* * *

Both Elizabeth and the Chaplain were digressing on yet another little subject in the realm of religious history, most notably, some little skits of the history of St. Peter. This time, Elizabeth was standing near the Chaplain himself, with her right side facing the usual front part of the desk, and her right hand daintily leaning on the surface.

"…So why do you think St. Peter was chosen to be head of the Church, despite his seeming immaturity, headstrongness, inclination to rash actions, and all that stuff? And oh, yes, not to mention…his tendency to act wild as a horse?" Presumably the Chaplain knew about Elizabeth's best friend Felicity, which could account for his latter description put in a rather humorous way.

Elizabeth laughed. "That sounds just like my best friend!" she replied.

"Yup. Of course, Peter was a man, not a woman. His traits were more of a masculine nature than that of a feminine one."

Elizabeth shot back a look of innocent wonder at the Chaplain.

"Aaaanywayyyy…Getting back to the point, the reason why Peter was chosen as head of the Church was because the Christ wanted to show to the entire world…well, the entire crap-heeled 'verse in this case – that the Church would…be governed by fallible men. That's why we…"

Chaplain Garland was interrupted when several audible beeps, which sounded for two seconds and beeped back at a two-second interval, emanated from his personal computer. The Chaplain instinctively pressed a touch-button on the surface keypad.

"Authorization, Garland, niner-eight-Delta-Zulu."

Elizabeth's eyes widened with wonder at the sound of those terms that felt weird to her, as well as the stranger that immediately appeared on the computer screen. It was an African-American man, in the appropriate clerical garments that were usually affiliated with that of the Roman Catholic Church bishops. The garbs were bright red, just like Felicity's cardinal cloak, though they had a tinge of scarlet about them.

"Yo, buddy," greeted Chaplain Garland.

"It's 'Your Grace', Reverend," replied the black man. "You might look into respecting that."

There was something very American about that black man. His English was very fluent, even though it had a tinge of the Southern accent usually associated with white Southerners and black people.

"Personal habit," replied the Chaplain. He turned to Elizabeth. "That's my superior, Bishop Samuel Clerk. He heads the Diocese of Los Angeles." he confided to her in a low voice. "He's sometimes called Sam for short. Weird, ain't it?"

"Los Angeles?" quoted Elizabeth. Even that name sounded weird to her, too.

The Chaplain turned back the screen. "How goes Los Angeles back there, Sam?"

"Pretty humid," replied the bishop. "Folks were a-saying it's 78 degrees outside."

"Damn humid, if ya ask me," replied the Chaplain.

"Yeah. Enough to make a man literally sweat his body out, even if hasn't done a whole lot of a day's work."

"I tend to agree."

"Whole lot has changed back there, Father, since you left the city. I just got word from the Starfleet records that you're coming back to the Diocese. Perhaps I should consider preparing the Lord's banquet for your upcoming arrival."

"Well, I might arrive a little later than expected, Sam. From what I've heard, the ship is maintaining a rather low warp speed at the moment. Don't really know why."

"Maybe you didn't ask."

"Probably ain't none of my business."

Elizabeth peered a little closer to the screen from where she was standing without interfering with the Chaplain's view. The black bishop appeared to be peering out of the screen, looking at Elizabeth. "Who's that blonde-haired blue-eyed gal you have with you, Father?"

"Oh, just a client of mine. Had rather creepifying dreams concerning a religiously-related holodeck program. Captain assigned her to me to calm her nerves down."

"That bad, eh?"

"'Fraid so."

"Figures. That her regular costume she's wearing?"

"From the looks of it." The Chaplain dared not divulge information relating to where Elizabeth and her friends actually came from. "People dress up rather weirdly around here, Sam, so that usually ain't no surprise for me, though I have to admit, she does look a mite prettier in that outfit."

The bishop chuckled in a genial matter. "Don't let the world catch up on you to much, Father. I understand you've been having a hard time these past several months since you were assigned to the _Cole_, but getting to caught up with the world might end up distracting you from your clerical duties."

Elizabeth perked her head up. "What's the _Cole_?" she asked.

"I'll explain later," said the Chaplain, facing her briefly before putting his head back on the view-screen. "Well, as far as I'm concerned, Sam, ain't no clerical duties are in overwhelming numbers, though I have to admit, I do have some on my hands; namely officiating Mass services for some of the personnel on board, as well as doing some spiritual conversations and pep talks of quantifiable variations, as I was doing with that little feller who's at my right side."

"You've gotten yourself pretty busy today, Father," said the bishop.

"Yeah. As they always say, idleness is usually the devil's little workshop."

The bishop chuckled again. "Don't hesitate to call me again if you feel you need some advice from an old friend."

"Won't forget."

"Good. Clerk out." As part of the courtesy, Garland usually waited for his superior to have the last word before breaking communication.

"The _Cole_?" asked Elizabeth.

"Yup."

"Wow. I get to have a ship named after me?"

The Chaplain laughed sort of mildly. "Well, it might have been a different Cole. Some soul more renowned than you."

Elizabeth wasn't pretty certain whether she could believe that. "So what was the _Cole_, anyway, Reverend?" she asked further.

"_U.S.S. Cole,_ you mean? Long story. 'Twas the starship I was stationed on before I stepped on board here. Taken over by the Borg while. Then most of the crew evacuated from the ship using the escape pods and landed on an ice planet, where we were forced to spend the next few months suffering the hell out of that harsh landscape before rescue came about. The rest of the story I'll tell you sometime later when I have the opportunity to do it."

The term Borg sounded bizarre to Elizabeth, and at the same time, rather mechanical and scary. "Who are the Borg?" she asked.

The Chaplain sighed. "Machine beings. People with machine parts stuck all over their bodies. You don't feel nothing once you become one."

"Don't feel anything, you mean?"

"You feel pretty mindless."

"That's pretty much it?"

"Yep. To put it briefly, you're basically just a mindless automaton."

Elizabeth narrowed her eyes at the Chaplain. "Anything else that is weird to me that you want to tell me?" she asked.

* * *

Ben sat back on the light-scarlet fabric-lined swivel chair. He looked, Pensive, and at the same time, determined. And now his itching had gone too strong. He would go. Out of this ship, back to his time. But somehow he was still being stopped dead in his seat by some unknown force. But though he felt stuck fast in the seat, his mind kept racing and making plans on how to go back to 1776…

* * *

Chaplain Garland glanced at the time. "Mother of God," he said. "It's 0945 hours. Sorry, Miss, but I've gotta prepare for an everyday church service I'm to officiate with 1000 sharp."

"Oh," said Elizabeth. "I'd best be going, too. But…I do have a favor to ask of you."

"Is it about breaking the Temporal Prime Directive again?"

"Nay." Elizabeth cleared her throat. "Would you be very kind to give me a blessing, Reverend?"

The Chaplain widened his eyes a bit before relaxing them. "Sure, Missy."

Chaplain Garland stood up from his chair and positioned himself closer where Elizabeth was near his desk area, at least a foot's distance.

"Head bowed," ordered the Chaplain, waving a vertical hand gesture with his right hand that indicated that he wanted Elizabeth's head bowed in prayer form.

Elizabeth immediately bowed her head in a solemn and ladylike manner. The Chaplain began murmuring something in the Latin language for nearly three quarters of a minute before concluding with the Sign of the Cross, which he formed reverently with a straight, open right hand across her head and body.

"…_In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti. Amen._"

During a brief silence, Elizabeth was pretty mystified about those seemingly weird ritualistic things the the Chaplain was doing to her, at least from her point of view.

"And that's pretty much it for this particular blessing," finished the Chaplain.

Elizabeth beamed at him. "Thank you, Reverend," she said sheepishly.

"No problemo," replied the Chaplain.

Elizabeth could not seem to help wondering what all that muttering made by the Chaplain was all about. "What was all that murmuring about?" she asked him.

"I was merely reciting the blessing in the Latin language. Again, a personal habit of mine. Literally translated it means, 'May the Lord bless you at all times, protect you from all manner of evil, and bring you to the eternal bliss of everlasting life', which is, of course, heaven, if you believe in it, 'in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.'"

"Of course I do, Reverend," said Elizabeth.

"Good girl."

"Hmm," crooned Elizabeth dreamily, as she looked up to him with admiration. "You're a very kind man, Reverend. I don't often get to meet many reverends who show the same virtues you do."

"And you're growing up to be a mature young lady, who never ceases to be too full of the milk of human kindness," said the Chaplain.

Elizabeth made a straight face. "Are you disparaging me, Reverend?" she asked rather suspiciously.

The Chaplain chuckled to himself rather humorously. "What makes you think I'm disparaging you, Missy?" he asked her.

"I don't know," replied Elizabeth. "But something does tell me 'tis a criticism."

Chaplain Garland made a face. "I take it you've been watching _Macbeth_ at the local London theater?"

"We went to see some plays, that being one of them," replied Elizabeth. "You won't mind if I'd best be going?"

"Not at all Missy. I'm betting your friends might have great need of you."

"Mmm," crooned Elizabeth. "Good day, Reverend," she said, as she bobbed a graceful curtsy. "And thank you."

Garland shrugged a laugh. "No, Miss, 'tis I who should thank you for presence in an otherwise dull and boring room. After all, you can't help the human need for beauty, can you?"

"I suppose not," replied Elizabeth. She flashed a sweet, attractive smile before turning away and quitting the room. The automatic sliding doors closed right behind her.

* * *

A/N (1): The dialogue of Nan in the Felicity's memory log was from the _Felicity: An American Girl Adventure _movie. The same also goes for Felicity's Grandfather's quote as well.

A/N (2): The part where Elizabeth talks about the incident where her older sister Annabelle Cole and Lord Harry Lacey mutually break their engagement with each other was from the book _Very Funny, Elizabeth_. I decided to use that incident, peppered with some segments of religiosity in it, as a filler for the dialogue scene.

A/N (3): The Church blessing that the Chaplain Garland was imparting to Elizabeth Cole via his recitation in the Latin language was derived from the Roman Catholic Breviary, the type of prayer book that Roman Catholic priests are mandated by the Code of Canon Law to recite every day during the morning, afternoon, and evening.

A/N (4): The Sign of the Cross (a.k.a. _Signum Crucis_) is a ritual hand motion made by members of most but not all branches of Christianity. In Chaplain Garland's case, he makes the Sign over Elizabeth because it is part and parcel of the basic rituals in the Roman Catholic Church, which he obviously belongs to. His hand version is the open one on his right hand, since it is a western Church ritual version.

I asked "pansyphoenix" about Felicity and Elizabeth's reactions concerning a hypothetical situation of someone coming up to them and saying that "God does not exist", including their possible defense, if they believe in God. The reason for this inquiry was because I needed to portray Elizabeth's reaction to a notion of "God nonexistent" in a fairly realistic manner. Here is her reply, which seems to be behind Elizabeth's portrayal:

"I would definitely say Elizabeth and Felicity would be angered by someone not believing in God. Religion, even though joked about back then like it is today, still was a touchy subject. The girls would respect another person's belief, of course, but to totally claim that there is no God would be totally unacceptable to them. A lot of people these days say, 'Well, whatever,' and just dismiss it as a person's right to believe or not believe in whatever they wish, but back then, well, the term 'witch-burning' comes to mind when it came to a person not believing in God! Religion is still a touchy subject today, I suppose, but in colonial times it was just unacceptable, even to those of Quaker, Anglican, Buddhists, what have you! Everyone had to believe in God, or a God, or you were not human."

I hope I wasn't too lame on the friendly chatting between Chaplain Garland and Elizabeth Cole. Chaplain Garland is supposed to be witty, so it took an awful long time to come up with witty and humorous dialogue


	25. Chapter 25

_**Star Trek: The Next Generation – Souvenirs**_

**Written By:**_** Commander Cody CC-2224**_

CHAPTER 25

Ben was still feeling a growing resentment within him; a resentment about all the favoritism to Felicity from her family members and friends he perceived after browsing through the memory logs. He was still musing on thoughts of leaving the _Enterprise_ when the door chime rang.

"Come," he said in an almost grimly tone of voice.

The automatic sliding doors opened and in entered Felicity.

"I didn't expect to find you here," she said.

"Nor you," replied Ben. "The tone in his voice seemed to indicate a state of irritation. Felicity could notice it. Not good.

"Benjamin Davidson, I dare say you've gotten quite peevish today!" she exclaimed. "Pray, what ails you so?"

"Oh, nothing," Ben lied.

"It _is_ something, I just know it," said Felicity a little snappishly. "You've been having some difficulty hiding your feelings from me, Ben, and this time, beyond suspicion, something is really wrong. So tell me. What is it?" She was beginning to sound almost like her mother.

Ben rudely slapped his hand on the desk surface. "Fine," he said irritably. His thoughts were blunt. "Here's how I feel. I can't stand it anymore, Lissie, staying on board this ship. I'm leaving this place and time."

Felicity slapped both her hands on the desk. "Benjamin Davidson!" she exclaimed indignantly. "Surely you're not thinking of running away again!"

"As a matter of fact, I am," retorted Ben in a rather discourteous manner. For him there was no need to get blunt now, since he knew that Felicity would just poke and prod and criticize him.

Felicity sighed crossly and crossed her arms. "Ben, how can you even think of such a thing?"

"You're not keeping me prisoner in here, Lissie."

Felicity was confused. "What do you mean, 'prisoner'? I'm letting you walk around this ship as much as you like. How can you say such a thing like this to me?"

"You don't understand, Lissie. I want to go back to our time. The time we came from."

This statement stunned Felicity. It seemed that she wanted to stay in the 24th century, where everything was at its most ideal, and Ben could just not seem to accept that. At least, not for himself, mostly.

"My living aboard the ship is pointless, Lissie. For me, my sense of purpose is taken away because I wanted to join Washington's army when I reach 18." He really wanted very much to join the Continental army and make his mark in the history of America's fight for freedom. "Besides, we don't belong here! Neither one of us!"

"Ben, I don't give a hoot as to whether we belong here or not!" Felicity replied hotly.

"Well, what about your family, Lissie?" Ben asked calmly.

Felicity bowed her head despondently. She missed the family members left behind: Father, Mother, and little baby Polly, and there was the strong, looming certainty that they were deceased long ago in this time. But seeing no way to get back to the time they were in, much less to the time when they were alive, she figured that she and Ben, as well as her best friend and her little siblings would have a chance to live together, and seek comfort in the fact that Ben will not have to be obliged to do any fighting. She feared that if she, along with her family members and friends, went back to the 18th century, Ben would be off to join Washington's army, and they would be forced to live in "interesting times", something that she wasn't particularly looking forward to. After all, the period during the American War for Independence was fraught will all sorts of horrifying perils and times that tried the souls of men, women, and children, at least from her own point of view.

She raised her head and stroked back her hair. "I miss Mother and Father and Polly, as well as some of our friends and acquaintances we left behind. I even miss Grandfather, too, and I kept wishing that I went back to the time when he was alive and when we were so happy together. But right now I, and most likely the rest of the group, don't seem to be very willing to give up the comforts of future civilization to go back to a time fraught with peril, as the war would most likely be doing." She looked at Ben with a solemn seriousness. "For the most part, we're here…to stay."

Ben frowned. "Fine. You stay, I'll go."

Felicity grabbed hold of Ben's right shoulder. "Ben, no! Please! You can't do this! You'd be doing something wrong! We all want you, nay, need you here! You can't just leave us alone like this in this place!"

"Yes, I can," retorted Ben. "The past was what I really wanted."

Felicity immediately let go of Ben's shoulder, distanced herself from him a bit, and frowned disapprovingly at him. "Are you the one who keeps telling me that you can't have everything you want?"

Ben snorted. "That's the second time you said, that Lissie, ever since I made what you call from your point of view a foolhardy attempt to run away to join Washington's army. For the second time I say this: The circumstances are different."

"Not to me it isn't!" snapped Felicity

"And why is that?" retorted Ben, feeling annoyed.

Felicity hung her head in sorrow. Ben sauntered to the desk chair and plopped himself on it. She went to Ben and put her arm around him."

"Ben, please don't do this to me," she pleaded. "You'll break my heart."

Ben just simply waved Felicity's hands off his shoulders in a rude manner and immediately got off the desk chair.

"You're using your feminine wiles on me to convince me to stay cooped up in this "space" vessel, Felicity Merriman. I sure as hell don't intend to give in."

Now Felicity began to say the same thing that she said nearly a year ago, when Ben was running off to join the Patriot army.

"You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Benjamin Davidson!" she burst out uncontrollably. "'Tis cowardly to run away, to break promises, and to hurt those who need you and trust you!"

That statement sort of got deep into the bottom Ben's heart that for some reason he was beginning to find it rather hard to refuse Felicity. But he wanted to test her resolve.

"I…wha…" he stammered crossly before he regained his composure. "Lissie, you've got a smutty mind!" he declared determinedly.

Felicity gasped in horror and suddenly cast a furious glare at Ben. _How dare he!_ she thought horrifically to herself. Then in a fit of headstrong impulse she approached Ben rapidly and slapped him rather hard across the face on his left cheek with her strong right hand. SMACK!

"Benjamin Davidson, that…is the most despicable thing you could ever say to a young lady!" she snapped loudly and angrily.

Ben forced a smile, while rubbing the slightly bruised area of his cheek where he got slapped. "Hell," he muttered. "Who cares?"

"I do!" cried Felicity hotly.

Ben simply scoffed vociferously. "You?" he sneered. "You've never been known to have a complete sense of propriety ever since I've known you?"

"This is different!" cried Felicity. "Your statement implies that I'm a lewd person!"

Felicity's expression changed to a rather sad one. Sensing that something was clearly wrong with Ben now, she lowered her voice to amore gentle and understanding tone. She seemed determined to give him a second change for him to come back to his senses.

"Ben, you don't have to do this," she said. She felt as though she could cry, but she controlled herself. "What's got into you? Please, come back to your senses. Let it go"

There was a brief silence before Ben resumed the conversation to his side. "Lissie, men need some sense of purpose in life. You take away the means to achieve that purpose, you take something away from a man."

Felicity looked at Ben forlornly and hopelessly, as if her seemingly persuasive arguments to him were failing her.

"Besides, we're getting too used to easy living!" Ben continued protesting. "We'll lose our cultural identity! We lose who we are!"

Now Felicity was all of a sudden aghast with burning anger. "Benjamin Davidson! Is that all you of all people are going to only care about?"

There seemed to be no point for Ben to attempt evading the question or defending himself. So in a slightly fierce and vary blunt manner, so not to be ashamed of what he was about to say, he replied in one single word: "Aye."

As a result Felicity became even more cross with him than usual. "I dare say, you're getting to be quite a selfish, foolish boy!" she declared crossly, as she crossed her arms.

"And you're so…security-centered!" retorted Ben indignantly. "What happened to _you_, Lissie? Lost your ardent fire for the Patriot cause?"

Felicity only looked sadly at Ben.

"What's more, I'm just…an apprentice in a shopkeeper's establishment…training in the business of shop-keeping. My family sent me to your family to learn the tools of the trade in the shop-keeping business of your father." He darted looks back and forth around the room. "The methods of shop-keeping in this timeline are far more complex than in the time where we came from!" He changed his voice to an impolitely presumptuous tone. "I seriously doubt that I'll be able to adapt!"

"Yes, you can, Ben!" exclaimed Felicity hotly.

"Oh, don't be so presumptuous, Lissie!" retorted Ben vehemently. "I _can't_, and I _won't_!"

"Benjamin Davidson! You're as headstrong and stiff-necked as a mule!"

"The hell I am! And the same can be said of you, too!"

Now Felicity started acting as though she would never let such words hurt her. Ben still wanted to see how far he could take the matter.

"If you "proper young ladies" want to stay behind, fine. But _I'm_ going back!" He rudely turned his back on Felicity.

"And how will you explain our absences when you meet father?" Felicity burst out. "How will you be able to explain how Felicity, Nan, and William Merriman are gone? Hmm?" Ben slowly turned around and faced Felicity with a serious look.

"And how will you be able to explain to Mr. and Mrs. Cole about their youngest daughter Elizabeth being missed?" Felicity continued, as she approached closer to Ben and looked him solemnly in the eye. "These are serious questions that you'll have to answer, Ben Davidson."

Ben was all of a sudden compelled to follow Felicity's advice, but a surge of rebellion flowed through his itching rebellious teenage body. Also, at the same time, he wanted to test Felicity's resolve. In his mind he remembered the time when Felicity made him feel ashamed in his attempt of running away to join the Continental Army of the Republic. This time, he wasn't going to let Felicity win the argument in its entirety. _No more_, Ben thought to himself rather bitterly. _No more…_.

However, a thought hit upon his head that he would let her win by staying in the 24th century, but not in the way she wants. Again, he was still determined to test Felicity's resolve.

"All right, Lissie," said Ben calmly. "You win, I stay. But…I get to go looking for wars to fight."

Felicity slapped her right arm on the left sofa arm. "Ben, how can you even _dare_ to go gallivanting on such escapades?" she asked in furious exasperation.

"I've already told you, Lissie," replied Ben, smiling a mocking smile. "Men need some sense of purpose in life. This life here is booooring."

Still remembering vividly the incident where Felicity shamed Ben when he tried to run away from his apprenticeship with Mr. Merriman, Ben was still very much determined to test Felicity's resolve to the breaking point. It seemed that he wanted revenge, and he knew that it was sweetest when it was served up cold. Perhaps it would be too much to just simply leave Felicity, her little brother and sister, and her best friend all alone in the 24th century, with no brotherly male protector, and Ben was a somewhat honorable lad. But perhaps for revenge's sake, he wanted to secretly take pleasure in seeing how poor Felicity would react if he took the matter too far. (Besides, his teenage hormones were restless, goading him to rebel against the conventions of responsibility.)

If I find a way and an opportunity to back to 1776, I will take it," declared Ben determinedly. And this time, you won't stop me, Felicity Merriman."

Felicity reacted rather violently as she cast a glare at Ben. "Oh, that does it!" she exclaimed angrily. "I shall never speak to you again, ever!" She flounced. "You are such a despicable boy, Benjamin Davidson!"

Ben smiled ruefully as he pointed his right hand index finger at Felicity. "Did you just call me 'boy'?"

Felicity turned sharply to face Ben. "Aye," she replied tartly. "And if such a term insults you, then good for you. You deserve it."

"Hussy," muttered Ben.

Such a term was pretty much enough to make Felicity gasp in shock, as the term was very offensive to her. Furiously throwing a sofa cushion at Ben, she said in a rather deadly voice for her age, "_Get_…_out_."

"You don't mean that, Felicity Merriman," said Ben in a rather causal manner, as he tried to control his rebellious self.

"I do, Benjamin Davidson!" cried Felicity hotly. "That…was the most despicable term you could ever call a young lady! I feel ashamed to have affections for you, to even kiss you, you of all people! Get out of this room!"

"This is my room, too, you know," said Ben calmly. "You can't just evict me as if you own this entire bunk. Besides, you didn't even say 'please'."

In a hasty, headstrong manner Felicity bent over, took off her black buckled shoe off her left foot, stood up straight as a fencepost, and poised herself to throw it at him.

Ben held up his right hand in a gesture indicating her to relent from throwing her shoe at him for the time being. "…But I will get out of this room, for your sake…" he said serenely.

A brief moment of solemn silence passed before Ben resumed his conversation. Felicity put her arm down, with her hand clutching her shoe.

"…And proceed to the virtual room to train for war."

The last statement was enough to make Felicity feel agitated again. She rudely turned her back on Ben and plopped herself on the coffee table in an unladylike manner. She felt as though she was about to cry, but resisted the seemingly justified urge.

"Fine!" exclaimed a crossly exasperated Felicity. "If fighting in a war is all you care for, go! Go seek your glory! But don't expect me to cry over you! I won't care for someone who doesn't care about me!"

"Oh, I'm afraid you're not going to resist caring about me or crying over me, Lissie. I know you. You love me too much."

The name "Lissie" touched Felicity by a slight, but, while attempting to fight back tears, she glared angrily at Ben. "Don't…call me Lissie," she said tartly. "That's a name reserved only for those who love me. And you don't really love me."

Ben simply shrugged his shoulders sadly, and ranted his indignations in a little more controlled fashion. "If that's what you want to believe, go ahead," he replied. He paused for a moment before resuming his rants. "Could it be that you seem so used to getting whatever you want that you've just simply given up on your 'Ben, please come back to your senses?' whenever Benjamin Davidson gets so damn near hotheaded about fighting for a cause he believes in? You get to sleep in a comfortable bedchamber, while I have to sleep in a drafty old stable! You get to have Penny, and what about me? I have to get stuck as an apprentice to your father for three more years, which, when I'm thinking right now, is a little too much for me to take!" He nearly lost control, as he was intent on exacting a little revenge against Felicity in his seemingly uncontrollable hotheaded, headstrong mood. "Personally, I think 'tis time you realized that you can't always have whatever you want, _Felicity Merriman_," he finished, reciting the name with a little more spite than was necessary.

Immediately Felicity sprang up from the coffee table and faced him fiercely, her fiery red hair reflecting all the anger she could nearly vent at him. "Oh, do go away, Benjamin Davidson!" she demanded hotly. "I don't love you anymore! You have _lost_ my friendship!"

Ben's anger sort of died down after he nearly exacted every once of verbal and psychological retribution against the girl he considered both a friend, and possibly a lover. Regretting that he took it too far than was necessary, he just simply shrugged his shoulders sadly and left the room completely with out another word. Another burst of anger overcame Felicity as she approached the table in a seemingly unstoppably determined manner and whisked her right arm holding her shoe over the table at a very close distance, thus shoving off the personal computer, which dropped to the floor and smashed to pieces. She curled her hands into tightly clenched fists; her other hand with the shoe clenching the shoe itself.

"ALL BOYS ARE JERKS!" she screamed in a violent outburst.

Felicity plopped herself on the main sofa and put her shoe back on her foot. After minutes of being on the verge of tears, she hung her head despondently, heartbroken, and cried, sobbing impulsively. Instinctively she brushed her flowing tears away from her face with her right hand.

* * *

A/N (1): Whether it seems realistic to portray Ben in this seemingly negative way (at least from the point of view of the avid Lissie/Ben fans and shippers) remains to be seen. For those who think that Ben would never do such a thing, here's a thought: If I were rebellious as him, I would not hesitate in doing something like that, if I was so overcome by resentment over being criticized, poked, and prodded by friends and acquaintances. That's usually what happens with most teenagers; well, sometimes. (Don't think I'm trying to be moralistic about this, though.)

A/N (2): It may be quite possible that the term "jerk" was a new word Felicity had learned (on board the _Enterprise_; hee hee...)


	26. Chapter 26

_**Star Trek: The Next Generation – Souvenirs**_

**Written By:**_** Commander Cody CC-2224**_

CHAPTER 26

Ben was now outside the Guest Quarters, at the hallway of Deck 10. Still at close proximity of the entranceway, he heard Felicity's brief angry but anguished outburst. Shrugging his shoulders as if he didn't care much, he continued on his destination to Holodeck 2.

Just three seconds from a stone's throw to the Guest Quarters he ran into Elizabeth, who was on her way from Chaplain Garland's quarters and checking on Nan and William, who were with other children in the Primary Care Classroom on Deck 12, which the children were apt to call the "crafts room". She was on her way to the Guest Quarters now to check on Felicity as well, suspecting that her friend might have gone there for some other reason.

"Good day, Mr. Davidson," she greeted amiably.

"Mmph," grunted Ben in a rather unenthusiastic manner.

Elizabeth kind of suspected that something was not right with Ben. Turning to face him, with an understanding look of concern wrapped across her face, she said, "You don't seem to cheerful this morning, Ben. What's wrong?"

Ben tried to be as casual as he could, as he as rather hesitant to show his emotions, except when it came to Felicity. "Um, Lissie and I were just having a…personal argument with each other," he replied fluently.

Elizabeth cast Ben a solemn look. "From the look in your face, whatever argument you had seems to have been quite serious."

"Well…"

"I'll go speak to Lissie about it," said Elizabeth. "Where are you off to, anyway?"

"The virtual room."

Elizabeth sighed. "Anyway, Nan and William are in the crafts room, playing with the children. I thought you might like to know."

"Thanks," replied Ben. "I'll check on them now and then." If he ever…

"How very considerate of you," complimented Elizabeth. "Good day, Mr. Davidson."

Ben languorously tipped his tricorn hat as both he and Elizabeth cordially parted company as best they could. As Ben continued on his way to the holodeck, Elizabeth daintily continued on her way to the Guest Quarters until she reached the entrance. She daintily placed her right hand index finger on the little touch-button that sounded the door chime.

A fairly audible voice from inside the room said, "Come." Elizabeth recognized it as Felicity's voice, though she was kind of left wondering by that tone in her friend's voice why spunky, spritely Felicity Merriman wasn't acting too cheerful these days. Without another word or thought in her head Elizabeth gracefully entered the room.

"Nan and William are in the crafts room playing with the children…" began Elizabeth, when she immediately took notice of her friend's seemingly despondent behavior. Felicity was seated on the main sofa with her head bowed in a crestfallen manner. "Why, Lissie, what's wrong?" asked Elizabeth.

Felicity didn't answer. Elizabeth took her seat on the sofa close by her friend's right side.

"Lissie, tell me. What is it?" she asked.

Felicity let out a rather tearful sniffle. "I'm afraid I have lost Ben," she said hopelessly.

"Aye, by the looks of it you two seemed to be having a serious argument with each other. Ben told me while he was on his way to the "virtual room."

Elizabeth gently put took Felicity's right hand.

"Lissie, tell me. What made Ben leave, and what did Ben do that caused you to be so upset over him?"

"Well," blubbered Felicity, "'Tis just that…" She hesitated, her voice trailing off, but she tried to make an effort to tell her friend what really happened, even though it was rather painful for her to do so.

"'…Tis just that Ben wants to go back to the timeline we came from, just so that he can fight in the war for the cause of the colonies' freedom."

"Hmm…" said Elizabeth skeptically.

"But that war is long past in the timeline!" Felicity continued in a moaning sort of attitude. "How can Ben even think of going back there just to gratify his sense of purpose? It doesn't make sense! How can he ever do something contemptible as this?" She hung her head in silence for nearly half a minute before lifting her head up again.

It was at this point that Elizabeth noticed that Felicity's faced was tear-streaked from crying over Ben.

"Why, Lissie, you're crying," said Elizabeth in a motherly way. "Let me get you some cloth."

"No, thank you, Elizabeth," replied Felicity forcefully. "I'm fine. I'm just…upset, that's all."

Elizabeth gave her friend a consolingly serious look. "Perhaps Ben is bored, Lissie," she said in an understanding sort of way. "Perhaps just for the sake of amusement he wanted to test your resolve on preventing him from doing what he really wants to do."

"Oh, I doubt it was for amusement, Elizabeth," said Felicity, after she let out a sniffle. "He really means business now. What makes you think such a thing like that anyway?"

Elizabeth put her head close to her friend. "Lissie," she began in a soothing manner. "Only you know Ben very well. I'm just simply pointing out the possibility that Ben does not really mean what he says he'll do."

"Oh, well put, Elizabeth," said Felicity crossly. "You say this, not realizing how serious the situation is not only for me but for all of us."

Now Elizabeth was pretty dismayed. "Pray, how serious?" she asked rather anxiously.

"Very," answered Felicity. If Ben leaves this ship to go back to our time, we'll be left without an older boy to protect us." She sniffled again. "And this is unknown territory for all of us!" she moaned. "If somebody on board dares to take advantage of us, he won't be here to come to our rescue. For him to just simply leave…" She sighed and shook her head sadly. "…Oh, I don't know we'll do or endure without him."

Elizabeth heaved a heavy sigh as well. "Well," she replied, trying not to sound too inconsiderate to her friend's feelings. "If such was the case…I don't know; I'm not as brave a girl as you are, Lissie, so…I suppose you'll have to take over. Ben always complimented how brave you are, and for the time being, you'll have to go on being brave."

"Elizabeth, please don't rub it in," pleaded Felicity as she sniffled again. "I may be brave, but not completely, especially when it comes to encountering the unknown. What if something terrible happens on board this ship?"

The two girls were silent for a moment before Elizabeth resumed the conversation.

"Lissie," said Elizabeth in a gentle but firm manner, as she lovingly put her arm around her best friend. "I think you're acting too flighty or childish at your age. I really do think that Ben is bluffing. 'Twould be dishonorable for him to just simply leave us in this period, especially when he knows full well that we need him. And I believe him to be an honorable lad. As the oldest among us, wouldn't he have the responsibility to look after us?"

"Well…" faltered Felicity in a hesitant manner.

"Lissie, I still do think Ben loves you. He may act otherwise, but I think he still loves you in his heart, in spite of the argument you had with each other. And most likely he's holding some regrets. I think you're too used to winning arguments with him."

"Mayhap 'tis true," said Felicity, letting out yet another sniffle. "When I remembered the time I was able to convince Ben not to run away from his apprenticeship with Father, I thought I would be able to persuade him against going back to our time, leaving us on this ship." She sighed a wistful sigh. "I remember him saying, 'Tis hard to refuse you, Felicity Merriman.'"

Felicity was silent for a brief moment.

"And now, it seems that he really means it," she continued, as she bowed her head dejectedly and continued sobbing quietly. "He can be quite stubborn at times."

"As can you," put in Elizabeth, trying not to sound unkind to her friend.

Felicity sniffled again, which sort of prompted Elizabeth to head to the bathroom and retrieve a face towel, which she gave to her friend before she sat back down with her. After a tearful "Thank you," Felicity slowly wiped her eyes and blew her nose.

"Ben said he would go to the "holodeck" to train for war."

"More like prepare," said Elizabeth. "If we ever go back to our timeline, he has to be prepared. You do want him to survive, don't you, Lissie?" she asked gently.

"Aye," replied Felicity. "But is it really necessary to go back."

"Perhaps not."

"Ben said that we're getting too used to creature comforts in this time, and that we'll lose our sense of identity if we stay here too long."

Elizabeth gasped in dismay, both hands across her mouth. "You don't say!" she exclaimed in a rather shocked, whispered tone of voice.

"Aye, 'tis true," replied Felicity. "He did indeed." She sniffled again.

Now Elizabeth was getting skeptical of her thoughts about Ben. "Hmm. Perhaps, then, I should have a talk with him. Methinks, if he keeps this up further…"

A thought hit Elizabeth's head when she broke off in mid-sentence.

"Lissie, did you ever think of praying?" she asked.

Felicity immediately perked her head up, though not to snappily. For an instant she remembered the time when she prayed to God for her mother's safe recovery from her winter illness that took place nearly the day before the Templeton Christmas Ball.

"What a novel idea," said Felicity. "Why hadn't I ever thought of that?"

"Perhaps you were too steeped in the depths of despair," replied Elizabeth gently. She put her right arm across her friend's right shoulder while getting up from her seat. "I'll go have a talk with him," she promised.

After nearly a one-second silence, Felicity nodded her head.

"And I'll check to see how Nan and William are doing. I'm sure Ben said he would do that, but based on how Ben seems to be acting right now, I feel I should be the one to do it."

Felicity nodded in assent to her friend after a brief, one-second silent moment. "Thank you, Elizabeth," she said gratefully. "I truly appreciate it. You are indeed a dear friend."

Elizabeth smiled understandingly in a motherly way and nodded as well. "You just have a good cry, Lissie. But don't cry too much." She gracefully quitted the Guest Quarters, leaving Felicity seated on the sofa with her head bowed.

Felicity was usually not the type of person to give up whenever she set her heart on something; however a seemingly lost friendship with Ben was an exception. It came of no surprise of her, given that she felt the same way when she thought that she lost her friendship with Elizabeth when her friend had not the nerve to prevent her older sister from saying nasty things about her father.

She got up from the sofa and knelt at the side of Ben's auxiliary trundle bed, tenderly clasping her hands in heartfelt prayer.

"Dear God, please don't let Ben leave us," she pleaded tearfully. She ended up crying again over the gap that Ben left her in her life.


	27. Chapter 27

_**Star Trek: The Next Generation – Souvenirs**_

**Written By:**_** Commander Cody CC-2224**_

CHAPTER 27

Holodeck 2, Deck 10…

Ben was inside Holodeck 2, practicing marksmanship with a Brown Bess musket at a target 250 meters away from him. The surroundings of the holodeck were pretty similar to the field where Felicity usually rode Old Bess, and the atmosphere was ultra-realistic, with the tang of cool, fresh air encompassing the area. Beside him was a flintlock rifle, a big-ass-looking knife, and an officer's rapier, all holograms.

Ben fired a single shot from the Brown Bess, but still ended up missing his target. He practiced nearly several times, but almost to no avail. Muskets in general were less accurate than rifles, yet if Ben was to join Washington's army, muskets would seem to be standard issued weapons to the Continental Army of the Republic.

He had just fired another shot when in a few seconds the holodeck sliding doors opened automatically. He had a visitor, and it was…Elizabeth. She approached Ben until she was a few feet's distance from him. The automatic sliding doors closed by themselves.

Elizabeth cleared her throat and readied herself, lest Ben snap at her the way he did to Felicity. Ben could almost tell that someone was behind him, so he instinctively turned his head to the right. "What now, Lissie?" he asked almost irritably.

"I've come here on behalf of Lissie to persuade you in abandoning your foolish attempts to leave your friends behind," she said a little timidly.

Ben made a skeptical face at her. "Excuse me?" he asked, as if he didn't like it when people made him reflect his on his seemingly foolish ideas.

Elizabeth composed herself. "Lissie told me that you had quite an argument with each other over the matter of you leaving us behind. She…" She broke off, feeling that she was going to feel a tad foolish herself. "She entreats you to come back to your senses."

"Ppptttthhhht!" snorted Ben, as he chuckled bitterly. "That isn't going to happen. You're not my mother, so leave me alone."

Elizabeth was beginning to feel somewhat hurt, yet something in her heart told her not give up…yet. "Ben, you have at least one opportunity to reconcile with Lissie. If you don't take advantage of it…" She stopped in fright the moment Ben rudely flounced at her, casting a glare.

"Don't you ever tell me what and what not to do, Elizabeth Cole," he ordered harshly. "I get sick of being poked, prodded, and criticized by the likes of Felicity Merriman, and I don't need another of those dislikes from the likes of Loyalist pussies like you. Now go away and leave me alone."

Elizabeth struggled to stand her ground. "I may not be as brave as Lissie is, but I think you should know that if you keep doing this, you may never have Lissie's friendship, or love, again," she said seriously. Her avid blue eyes were very much troubled.

"Are you out of your Tory mind?" retorted Ben forcibly. "Hell with her," he declared rather tactlessly as he turned his back on her and cocked the flintlock of the holographic Brown Bess.

"Ben, how can you say this?" blurted out Elizabeth.

"I'm a free man," replied Ben. "I get to say and do whatever I wish to say and do."

"You would use your freedom to hurt those who love you?" asked Elizabeth in a serious tone of voice.

"What do you mean, hurt?" retorted Ben, as he fired another shot. Elizabeth shuddered, as the ultra-realistic blast was pretty much enough to nearly startle the wits out of her. "'Tis not like I'm physically hurting you and your little friends."

"Thank God it isn't," said Elizabeth rather sarcastically. "But you're making your friends upset by hurting their feelings and worrying themselves sick over your absence."

Ben wondered if he should take it a little more farther just like he did Felicity, but then decided to keep at it. He felt somewhat tired of them governing his life.

"I don't give a damn about feelings, Lizzie," said Ben. "Yours notwithstanding."

Elizabeth was angry. _How dare he_! she thought to herself furiously. "You are one despicably selfish boy, Benjamin Davidson," she declared, struggling to control herself.

Ben turned his head. "And you're one hell of an itty-bitty Loyalist bitch," he said tactlessly.

Elizabeth was very much dismayed at what Ben called her, since the term was very derogatory to a gentlewoman of her time, especially to one of a slightly higher class.

"On second thought," added Ben, sneering to himself. "I just had an idea regarding that name. 'Bitsy the Loyalist bitch'. Now that term rolls quite nicely off the tongue, don't you think, itsy-Bitsy?"

Elizabeth's face flushed with seething anger. It was one thing to be called by the dislikable name 'Bitsy', but to be called 'bitch' was another. This time, Elizabeth, who was usually shy and timid around other people, was greatly incensed.

"Benjamin Davidson!" she seethed in a fuming, reprimanding tone of voice. "That…is the most des_pi_cable term you could ever use on a proper young lady! Did you ever think of how this would reflect on your reputation, and the reputation of your family? If my Father and Mother ever heard you say such hateful things like that, they would be justified in saying that the Patriots are loathsome, nasty hotheads! And they would be right in saying so! Don't you get it?" Ben's back was still facing her. "Look at me, Mr. Davidson!" she cried indignantly.

Ben slowly turned around and faced Elizabeth again as she resumed her chiding.

"Did you ever think of how your actions would reflect on Lissie?" Elizabeth asked him with a very serious solemnity. "That she has a beau…who has the audacity to behave in a most shameful manner toward proper young ladies? For Lissie's sake, and for all our sakes, please stop this foolishness!"

For a brief moment Ben hung his head in seeming burning shame, but waved it off as he turned his back on her again.

"I am not finished with yet!" cried Elizabeth.

"Oh, yes, you are, _Bitsy_!" shouted Ben. He started panting a bit, as if a feeling of remorse had literally swept over him. But it actually didn't.

"You know how I detest that nickname, Benjamin Davidson," hissed Elizabeth.

"SO WHAT?" bellowed Ben, in an irritated manner. "YOU DESERVE IT! I'M NOT LISTENING TO A TORY LIKE YOU! I'M A PATRIOT! A _PATRIOT_! GET IT?"

He turned his back rudely on Elizabeth once more. Poor Elizabeth was very much stung by what Ben had said to her.

"I'm sorry you feel this way," said Elizabeth, her voice shaking by a slight, as she looked at Ben unhappily. "Ask yourself, Benjamin Davidson, whether running away again is worth hurting your family and friends." Without another word she quitted the holodeck, struggling to keep her grace and poise. The automatic sliding doors closed behind her.

* * *

Guest Quarters (Room 0313), Deck 10

Elizabeth entered the Guest Quarters, looking pretty hopeless, but not too hopeless as Felicity was. A few seconds after she entered, Felicity got up from sitting on Ben's trundle bed, musing over thoughts when she and Ben were together.

"Any luck," asked Felicity. Her face was slightly red from crying, but her tears were dried, and her face washed and cleaned.

"I'm afraid not, Lissie," replied Elizabeth forlornly. "Mayhap you're right. He most likely won't listen to sense. "Anymore?" asked Felicity.

Elizabeth gave her friend a rather upset look. "The last thing he could ever have the audacity to do was to insult my honor," she said almost bitterly.

Felicity gently took her friend's hand. "'Tis not your fault, Elizabeth," she said.

"I hope not," replied Elizabeth, trying to recover her feeling of grace. "I'm…I'm not as brave…and hotheaded as you are, Lissie, but…"

"You tried," said Felicity. She heaved a heavy sigh. "I guess 'tis now my turn to convince him."

Elizabeth nodded in assent. "You do that," she said quietly. "While I pick up Nan and William from the crafts room and think things through for you."

Felicity nodded as well. She was glad inside that Elizabeth understood how much Ben was needed in the group.

* * *

A/N: Usually my chapters are long, but I wanted to format the chapters like a movie.

Well, Ben is still acting pretty hotheaded, inconsiderate, and rebellious. And Felicity will try again to convince Ben to come back to his senses, just like what she tried to do when Ben ran away for the first time to join Washington's army. (possible c.f. _Felicity Saves The Day_) Will she be successful in saving the day once again?


	28. Chapter 28

_**Star Trek: The Next Generation – Souvenirs**_

**Written By:**_** Commander Cody CC-2224**_

CHAPTER 28

Holodeck 2, Deck 10

Ben was still in Holodeck 2 practicing with knives, pistols, muskets, and rifles. He was near to getting the hang of firing the Brown Bess, and managed to get a shot millimeters near the center of the holographic bull's-eye target.

Much to Ben's exasperation the holodeck doors opened. This time it was Felicity, come to convince Ben to abandon his plan to escape from the _Enterprise_. Instinctively he turned his head.

"If the purpose of your visit is to talk me out of going away, you're wrong," he said to Felicity, as she entered the holodeck. "It won't work."

Felicity shot Ben a serious look. The slight artificial breeze in the holodeck surroundings played with her red hair. "'Tis you who's wrong, Ben," she said hotly. "To even think of leaving us behind to fend for ourselves while you go gallivanting on your foolish escapades."

Ben laughed a seemingly bitter laugh. "Your smart talk isn't going to convince me one bit, Felicity Merriman," he said.

Felicity heaved an exasperated and sad sigh. "Well, aren't you a hard-hearted boy, Benjamin Davidson," she declared in a rather tart manner. "I always thought…"

"…That 'twould be hard to refuse you?" Ben interrupted tactlessly. He scoffed in a rather sarcastic manner that hinted bitterness in his tone of voice. "Not this time, little Lissie. Not this time."

Felicity almost felt touched by Ben calling her that name, but she was still angry with him. "Don't call me Lissie," she said rather bitingly.

"But technically that's how your closest family and friends address you as such," Ben replied rather casually.

"You're _not_ my friend, Ben Davidson," snapped Felicity. "You compromised your friendship with me moments ago."

"Including your love?"

Felicity's face was sad. "Aye," she quipped. "That, too."

Ben forced another bitter laugh as he faced Felicity and shouldered the Brown Bess on his right shoulder. "Did I indeed?" he asked sarcastically. Felicity just stared at him in a rather unfriendly manner.

"Well, that's bad news," concurred Ben, shaking his head. "If you're not my friend, how come you're still talking to me face-to-face in the first place?"

Felicity softened her look as she approached Ben slowly in a somewhat affectionate manner. "Because I intend to give you a second chance, Ben, a chance which may not come back another time once you reject it. You can still regain my friendship with you. Including our newfound love.

Ben felt that being badgered by Felicity again was too painful for him to bear. Also what he considered unforgivable to him at a personal level was the slap in the face that Felicity had the audacity to give him.

"You slapped me awful hard in the face, Felicity Merriman," he said quietly in a hurt manner. "That I consider an unforgivable offense."

"You deserved it," said Felicity. "For your unnecessarily foolish stubbornness, as well the insults you heaped upon me."

"And in addition to that, you kept badgering me around," replied Ben, as he raised his voice. "You always have to misjudge my character every time, every step of the way!"

Felicity gulped a little nervously. "Maybe I was wrong to do this," she said, as she looked up at Ben in a pleading manner. "Please forgive me."

Ben shook his head, forcing a bitter smile. "You're using your feminine wiles on me again, Felicity Merriman. And what the hell do you mean 'maybe'?" He raised his voice again as if both he and Felicity were involved in a shouting match. "'Tis wrong! Wrong!"

Felicity flinched.

"WRONG!" bellowed Ben finally. Poor Felicity flinched again, winced, and shut her eyes tight.

Ben kept glaring at Felicity. He took notice of her struggling desperately to fight back tears, but he saw some tiny teardrops on her face trickling from her tightly shut eyes. His looked softened a little bit, as he tried to gently brush away the tears from her face. But Felicity rudely slapped his hand away from her face.

"Don't _touch_ me, Benjamin Davidson!" she snapped scathingly, feeling hurt by what Ben dared to do to her.

As Ben rubbed the area of his right hand where he got slapped, Felicity wiped her eyes with her right arm sleeve of her tea lesson gown. Now she was beginning to have mixed feelings of anger and sadness about her. Ben's heart was hardened once again.

"Fine, then," he said in bitter, hurt anger. "You can throw away your friendship with me, for all I care. I'm tired of being under your very thumb, Felicity Merriman. I'm tired of seeing you being the fawning favorite of your family and friends."

Felicity cast Ben a sad and serious look. "If you don't have any friends, than that's your fault," she replied rather bitterly, almost like Ben himself. "How can you expect anyone to be your friend when you have the audacity to torment someone like this?"

"I don't," replied Ben. "And frankly, I don't need _any_ friend of the weaker sex telling what to do and what not to do."

Felicity frowned, and her face flushed as red as her hair. "You really are a stubborn and foolish boy, Benjamin Davidson. I see that trying to talk some sense into you a second time about staying with is in this timeline was a futile attempt. I've literally _given_ up on you now!"

"Good," concurred Ben tartly.

"'Tis _not_ good, Benjamin Davidson!" she said hotly. "Alienating your friends just to satisfy your own personal desires is just plain selfish!" She lowered her voice a bit. "I pity you, Ben. Is that what you're already becoming now?"

Ben displayed an attitude that indicated that he was very much tired of being incessantly criticized by the likes of Felicity. He was furious. "You've already made your point, Felicity Merriman," he replied. "And nay, I'm _not_ staying with you, or your pesky brother and sister, or your suffocating friend Bitsy the Loyalist bitch!" With that, he violently shoved Felicity to the floor.

Already in a rather untidy heap, Felicity gasped in horror, her hands over her mouth, looking very much horrorstruck. _How dare he call my best friend with that offensive term?_ she thought to herself bitterly. _How can he push me like this as if I weren't worthy of respect! But I won't stand for this!_

In response, Felicity returned the favor by landing a rather hard punch on Ben's right cheek, which made him sprawl to the floor almost in the same manner as she. Ben sprang up from the floor, rubbing his bruised cheek area, staring at Felicity in dismay. Normally he anticipated hot retorts from Felicity herself, but this was something he never expected in the first place, not even from a girl like her.

"Benjamin Davidson," began Felicity, as she furiously accented on certain syllables of every word. "You…are despicable, to ever have the gall of calling my best friend Elizabeth Cole with such an awful term! You really make me utterly ashamed to call you my _friend_."

Ben lowered his musket arm and simply shrugged his shoulders in a tactless attitude.

"You have no remorse, have you?" continued Felicity in a hurt manner. "I'm _ashamed_ of you; I really am. I shall never speak to you again, or even see you again. _Ever_. And I shall make a point to tell Elizabeth, Nan, and William about how _despicable_ you are so they'll never speak to you again as well. And _you_…shall never sleep in the Guest Quarters anymore." She flounced out of the holodeck, leaving Ben standing in nearly angered speechlessness, holding his musket, and the automatic sliding doors closed behind her.

Ben did not say another word after that. Inside he felt somewhat glad that he managed to triumph over Felicity's arguments. Whether remorse was surging across every area of his body remained to be seen. But somehow he couldn't feel the joy of his personal victory, as it had cost him the only friend he truly loved. He started wondering whether all this acrimony was worth keeping up the hurt he was imparting to those that really mattered to him the most…

* * *

Guest Quarters, Deck 10

The Guest Quarters was all quiet as a monastery, most notably on account of Elizabeth wanting a moment's silence both for her and on behalf of her friend. Both Nan and William were situated on the left hand corner of the room, near Ben's trundle bed, steeped in the chess game that was bought at the Replimat. Elizabeth herself was seated on the right side of the main sofa, busying herself as a bee over a plain white sampler that she picked up from the crafts room where the little mites were stationed temporarily, looking pretty relaxed as ever. In the group it seemed that Elizabeth was the peace and serenity in the midst of brash young hotheads like Felicity and Ben, and playful little mites like Nan and William.

Felicity, on the other hand, was seated on the fabric-lined swivel chair that was usually situated at the front of the desk, which was lined to the wall at its left side. She mused for what seemed to be quite a long moment before she let out a sniffle and plopped her left hand on the desk surface in exasperation.

Both Nan and William looked up from their chess game. "You look so sad and angry, Lissie," said Nan innocently in her little voice. "What's the matter?"

Felicity sighed. "None of your business, Nan. Go back to your play."

Nan forlornly continued her chess game with little William. "I don't think we should bother her," she whispered to her younger brother.

Elizabeth calmly looked up from her sampler work. "What _is_ the matter, Lissie?" she asked in an almost motherly tone of voice. Felicity slowly got up from the swivel chair and planted herself down on the sofa near Elizabeth's left side. She leaned over her shoulders, with her shoulders on her legs supporting her face. This she maintained for a brief moment before she sat up straight, smoothed the red hair that was sticking out of her mobcap, and crossed her arms in an almost determined manner.

"I have had it with that boy," said Felicity crossly. "Benjamin Davidson won't listen to sense any more."

Elizabeth breathed a gentle sigh as she faced her friend in a motherly fashion. "We at least tried," she said quietly. "And…I think that counts for something…" She stopped for a moment, believing somewhat that this statement was a little too callous for her friend to take, as was indicated by the slightly cross look that her friend shot her before she hung back her head again. "I'm sorry that I wasn't effective in bringing Ben back to his senses."

Felicity began to have a shred of sympathy within herself that she put her right hand o Elizabeth's left shoulder. "Don't crucify yourself, Elizabeth," she said quietly. "It wasn't your fault."

* * *

Unbeknownst to the older girls, Ben was eavesdropping on their conversation in the Guest Quarters. He could have knocked, but he sort of feared he might get something thrown at him by Felicity, so he refrained from doing so. Besides, he was curious as to what the opinions of the older girls were.

* * *

In the Guest Quarters the older girls kept up the quiet conversation.

"Perhaps you seem to be right, in saying that you've given up Ben," said Elizabeth, as she gently took her friends arm off her shoulder. "But what will you do, or what will any of us do, now that he is gone from our lives?"

Felicity perkily turned her face to her friend. "You know what? I honestly haven't thought about that."

"So it seems," concurred Elizabeth sadly, heaving a rather wistful sigh. "And what of Ben?" she asked.

Felicity smugly braced her crossed arms. She seemed more determined than despondent. "What of Ben?" she asked rather smugly. "Humph! I won't bother with that uncivilized brat anymore! The second time I tried to bring him back to his senses it resulted in his becoming even more stubborn and hard-headed than ever!"

"Lissie," said Elizabeth. "Are you implying that Ben is dead-set against staying with us?" Her avid blue eyes were filled with worry. So was Nan's as she looked up again from the chess game, with William following suit.

"Ben's not going to stay with us?" asked William.

"Hush, William!" said a worried-looking Nan, with her right-hand finger over her mouth. Elizabeth looked over the little mites, and her fears were somewhat confirmed.

For an answer Felicity shook her head, ignoring both Nan and William. "I'm afraid that seems to be the case, Elizabeth. I…I just don't know what to do now. But…" She braced herself again while reclining a little on the sofa with her hands now clasped and resting on the upper skirts of her gown. "I don't intend to make a fool of myself again. If Ben desperately wants me very much, he'll have to _earn_ back my love and respect. So there."

Elizabeth cast a rather serious look at her friend. "All right, Lissie," she said. "But…are you sure that's wise? I mean…" She gulped before she continued. "…Driving Ben away may not be the best thing to do, not for you, and especially not for all of us. We'll need him, that much is for sure. I mean…who knows what sorts of terrible things might happen to us at this time?"

Felicity chuckled to herself a bit, remembering those similar thoughts that she confided to her friend. She suppressed her chuckle before she continued in a seriously determined manner.

"The way he's acting?" she replied. "No way. I can certainly get along with out him fine, thank you very much, Elizabeth."

"But what will you do, Lissie?" asked Elizabeth, looking very much troubled.

Felicity snorted to herself. "If Ben thinks I'm just simply going to pine away for him like a lovesick little girl, he's wrong," she said rather determinedly. "I don't intend to sit here idle, waiting for some…miracle to happen. I'll just simply move on and act as though I won't want him anymore, much less need him. In fact, I'd be willing to be the leader of this little group if I have to…" Her voice trailed off, as she wondered to herself whether she really meant it. Truth be told, she was still inclined to pine away for Ben, even though it seemed from the way Ben was acting right now that he didn't love her. Elizabeth might have suspected that, too, but decided to give her friend some practical advice just in case Felicity decided to resort to rash actions, given her headstrong personality.

Disturbing the older girls' calm was Nan and William's wailing over Ben's seemingly possible absence. "Ben's going to leave us?" wailed William, perking his head up.

"But he can't," said Nan. Suddenly her eight-year-old mind began to remember something that she said about Ben nearly a year ago from 1776, and it kind of disturbed her.

"All right, Lissie," said Elizabeth quietly, as she shrugged her shoulders a little, after glancing at little Nan and William. "But…'tis not good to engage in rash actions unless there's a practical solution at hand." Unlike her best friend Felicity, Elizabeth was a very practical and sweet-tempered girl.

But Felicity, on the other hand, was rather impatient and exasperated over "practical solutions." "What practical solutions?" she huffed. "Don't you think I've had my fill of practical solutions for one…"

Elizabeth interrupted her friend by calmly placing her right hand over her friend's mouth. Felicity stopped talking, and Elizabeth put her hand down on her lap.

"Let's try the practical solution first before we resort to the rash one," she suggested. Felicity only sighed and gave in.

"Now…" continued Elizabeth. "I was thinking…of consulting the Reverend on this matter…"

"Oh, how will that help?" asked an edgy Felicity. "A Reverend generally does not…" She closed off in mid-sentence when she noticed her friend's hurt look.

"Lissie, please let me finish," pleaded Elizabeth.

Felicity exhaled. "I'm…I'm sorry, Elizabeth. Please continue. I'm just…"

"Never mind that," said Elizabeth. "There's a nice man named Reverend Garland. He's somewhat witty and kindhearted, in spite of our religious differences."

Felicity was sort of alerted by that last phrase. "What religious differences?" she asked curiously.

"Well…" began Elizabeth, but stopped, fearing what Nan and William would be hearing from her. So she whispered in her friend's left ear. "He's a Papist," she whispered.

Felicity gasped, hand across her mouth. "A…what? Oh…you don't say. But I thought…"

"Doesn't matter," said Elizabeth.

"But Elizabeth!" cried Felicity in a whispering tone of voice. "For you to be consulting a Reverend like that is…" Elizabeth just simply smiled at her.

"'Tis not like he was intent on converting me, Lissie; you can be well-assured of that," assured Elizabeth. "Getting back to the point, I intend to consult him over the matter of your beloved Ben while _you_…" She playfully poked her friend's chest with her right hand finger. "…Keep an eye on your little sister and brother. Does that sound like a practical plan for all of us?"

Felicity sighed gratefully, as she squeezed her friend's left hand in affection. "Elizabeth," she said. "I'm not sure what I would do without you."

Elizabeth smiled back at her best friend before a thought hit her that changed her expression. "But…I can't really do it tonight, Lissie," said Elizabeth. "The Reverend is not usually available during those afternoon hours. And even during the evening hours, he keeps himself busy in his quarters with his…whatever you call them. You'll have to wait, Lissie."

Felicity heaved a rather wistful sigh. Yes, she had to wait, but the idea of at least having a solution that was somewhat viable to getting Ben back was a godsend for her, as well as for the rest of the group.

Elizabeth resumed her sewing, while Felicity was peering and staring onto what her friend was sewing on her sampler. In what seemed to be after nearly a couple of minutes Nan approached Felicity and climbed onto her older sister's lap. William got up on the sofa and sat next to Felicity's left side.

"Lissie, is Ben going to leave us?" Nan asked her older sister innocently. Felicity was very much inclined to say that Ben, given his hotheadedness, was determined to never come back, but she felt she had the duty to calm her siblings' fears.

Felicity held her younger sister on her lap and gently rocked her in a motherly fashion, with Elizabeth fawningly gazing at the loving scene, which was filled with conventional sentimentality. "I don't know, dearest Nan," said Felicity. "But we're working on a solution."

"I shouldn't have said that I hated him," said Nan sadly. "When we heard that he ran away."

"That's what you said?" asked Elizabeth, a little shocked. Nan nodded dejectedly as she rested her head on her older sister's chest. Elizabeth shook her head while it was bowed slightly.

"'Twas only a year ago," said Felicity. She sighed rather wistfully, wondering how on earth such sentiment could have to do with Ben leaving his friends behind.

"Do you think that's what made him leave us?" Nan quietly asked her sister.

"I really don't know, Nan," said Felicity, sighing.

William kept sighing about getting his turn to sit on his older sister's lap. Felicity noticed this and instinctively turned to her friend.

"Um…Elizabeth, is your lap available?" she asked impishly.

"Um…of course," replied Elizabeth rather hesitantly.

"Well, William?" Felicity asked her younger brother.

William immediately rushed to Elizabeth's lap and made himself quite comfortable as Elizabeth held onto him. The entire moment was filled with pleasurable sentiment as he and Nan looked at each other.

* * *

Well, it seems that Felicity was not successful…_this time_…in persuading Ben to come back to his senses. But there's just one more card to play before a Lissie/Ben reunion can be made a possibility…


	29. Chapter 29

_**Star Trek: The Next Generation – Souvenirs**_

**Written By:**_** Commander Cody CC-2224**_

CHAPTER 29

Chaplain Garland's Quarters (Room 0576)

Next Day, Mid-Morning, 0955 hours

Chaplain Garland was dressed in his black clerical uniform. He was wearing the usual: a long-sleeved shirt, which looked more like a futuristic uniform format of a police officer, slick black pants with four pockets; two on the side, and two on the back. A slick black belt with a shiny aluminum buckle was wrapped across the top rim of his pants. And he wore his sporty black army combat boots. Nearly everything about his appearance was very militaristic, as well as his fairly muscular physical appearance.

The Chaplain's quarters were well-lit with the ceiling-based fluorescent lights. As usual, while waiting for his usual assignment schedule to officiate religious services on board the _Enterprise_, he was reclined on his swivel chair with both his legs crossed over his desk, reading his Breviary volume at leisure while at the same time listening to Gregorian Chants on hi-fi from his personal computer. A steaming navy blue mug of black coffee was perched on a creamy white saucer and reflected in the fluorescent light while situated on his desk beside his left side.

In a few minutes the door chime sounded.

"Come," he called.

The automatic sliding doors to the entranceway opened and in entered Elizabeth, in her graceful, ladylike fashion.

Chaplain Garland put his Breviary down. "Ah, Miss Cole, 'tis you," he greeted briskly, as he took his legs off the desk and planted them on the floor. "What brings ya here to my seemingly modest quarters?"

Elizabeth stood at attention and cleared her throat; her hands clasped downward on the skirts of her gown. Although the music was sensationally marvelous to her, she didn't want get distracted at the moment, especially when it came to doing something for Felicity. "I have a consultation to make with you," she said rather coyly.

"The matter bein'?" asked the Chaplain, anxious to get at the point.

"'Tis about a lad named Mr. Benjamin Davidson," replied Elizabeth. "She's my best friend's friend."

The Chaplain moved himself and his swivel chair closer to the edge of his desk front. "Friend or lover?"

"Who?" asked Elizabeth, somewhat confused.

"That Davidson boy you've just brought up."

"He's more of both," replied Elizabeth. "My friend had a crush with him."

"Who's your friend?"

"Felicity Merriman."

"Swell."

Elizabeth beamed at him as she approached the Chaplain's back side length of the desk and took her seat on the client's leather-lined mahogany chair as the Chaplain took a luxurious swig of the steaming black coffee and set the mug down on the saucer with a mild ceramic banging sound. Suddenly her mind seemed to get caught up with the wonderful Gregorian Chant music. The male voices and the choir voices of the boys were quite sensational to her, and she sort of acted as though she had never heard anything like that before.

"I dare say, that is indeed marvelous music," complimented Elizabeth.

The Chaplain perked her head up and grinned. "Why thank you, Miss Cole," he replied. "I dare say, most of your religious compatriots would no doubt regard such music as…"popish". You don't mind it at all, do you?"

"Not at all, Reverend," replied Elizabeth, as she chuckled somewhat nervously.

The Chaplain nodded. "You're quite an open-minded child, Miss Cole, even if you're an Anglican. Truth be told, I somewhat admire you for that."

"And you're a very open-minded…Reverend," said Elizabeth coyly, "Even if you're a Papist."

"Guess that's my very nature, Missy," said the Chaplain, not minding one bit about the term "Papist". Elizabeth nodded and beamed.

Chaplain Garland cleared his throat as he hit a touch-button on his personal computer to switch off the music. "Now, um…on to the matter of business," he began. You're…um…implyin' that this Davidson fellow's got quite a handful of rather serious problems on his own self?"

"Aye," replied Elizabeth.

"Most likely psychologically based," said the Chaplain. "If that seems to be quite the case, I suggest taking it up with Counselor Troi. I be thinkin' 'tis something you might consider askin' her for help on that matter.

"I suppose," replied Elizabeth in a demurely wistful manner. "But…since you're my confidante, and because you're…a man, I just thought…you might have some insight in this manner."

"Wha-…" sputtered the Chaplain. "Because I'm a man"

Elizabeth smiled rather mischievously. "Mm-mm," she replied. "As a man, you'll be more understanding of Ben's predicament than I think Miss Counselor would."

The Chaplain sighed. "I…I ain't no registered psychologist, Missy," he admitted. "But…I'll see what I can advise you on that matter. Don't blame me if it ain't too helpful none."

"Reverend, any help you can give me will be greatly appreciated," assured Elizabeth calmly in a sweet-tempered tone of voice.

"That be good news," replied the Chaplain. "Anyway, getting' back on the matter, how old is Mr. Davidson?"

"Seventeen years of age," answered Elizabeth.

Chaplain Garland let out a genial chuckle. "Quite a youngster, that 'un," he remarked to himself audibly, as he took another swig of his coffee. "So. What sort of god-awful problems is he having right now?"

Elizabeth gulped a little, but relaxed in her chair, with her hands clasped on the skirts of her gown, just like a proper young lady. "He's threatening to leave us," she said. "And by _us_, I mean my friends and me."

"That so? Well, you and the rest of your little friends can't keep him prisoner on this boat, Missy. He'll need a hell of a lot of breathin' room."

"And more of it too, I might add," added Elizabeth wryly. "He wants to leave this ship and go back to his time."

The Chaplain took his last swig of his coffee until the mug was empty, put his Breviary book on the left side of his desk, as well as his mug and saucer, and crossed his hands together in the manner of a company manager. "That…is damn good coffee the replicators make. I always call them _ex nihilo_ machines, as if such good coffee could actually from God himself."

"_Ex nihilo_?" inquired Elizabeth. The smooth-sounding Latin words were mildly sensational to her as they rolled off the tip of her tongue. _That Reverend is a strange man, in almost everything he is and does_, she thought to herself.

"Out of nothin', basically that's what means," replied the Chaplain cursorily. He took the empty mug, sniffed it sensationally, and brought it down on the saucer with a ceramic-sounding clatter. The Chaplain immediately headed straight for the matter of Benjamin Davidson.

"Last time I had a chat with ya I heard you and your friends was from the year 1776. Is that the time where this Davidson fellow wants to get back to?"

"Aye, it is," replied Elizabeth.

"Gawdalmighty, what the hell for?"

"According to my friend, he wants very much to go back in time and fight on the Patriot side and make his mark in history through fighting for his country's cause."

"Yeah, but…this cause is won, what's the point?"

"The point, Reverend?" asked Elizabeth, confused.

"Yeah. 1776 is a hell of a turbulent time for people in the Thirteen Colonies," said the Chaplain. "And he wants to go back to that time…to play soldier?"

"I'm afraid so," said Elizabeth.

The Chaplain started cursing to himself in Latin. "Ain't no point to be going back there just for that, Missy," he said. "Warfare is just bloody awful in that time period. There a particular reason for this?"

"According to my friend, he wanted to do it to gratify his sense of purpose."

"Ah, yes. Purpose," mused the Chaplain. "'Tis true that men need some sense of purpose in their lives, some meaning," he reflected. "But why…this Davidson fellow…?"

"But then I had a thought that Ben isn't the type of boy to just simply run off and irresponsibly leave the rest of us behind in this time. I had a talk with him lately, and he acted as though he was dead set on leavin'. But…then I still think that from my point of view, he wouldn't just simply do things like that. He's too honorable."

"Hmm…" mulled the Chaplain. "Boys at Ben's age can be at times unstable. Prone to weakness." He mulled over his thoughts before he perked his head up at Elizabeth at attention. "Does he just simply want to go off to war for war's sake? Does he think going to war is…fun? 'Cause it really ain't when ya think about it," he finished, chuckling rather lightly.

"Well…erm…" began Elizabeth in almost nervous hesitancy, "He is quite stubborn about getting whatever he wants, just like my best friend…" She chuckled to herself before regaining her ladylike composure. "…I don't know;…to me, it just don't seem normal for me to think about a lad going off to a real fight just for the fun of it. To be honest with ya I've always been afraid of war myself, even if it was for a good cause…"

"That's perfectly normal," quipped the Chaplain. "No one ain't gonna disparage ya for that, and certainly not me, when it comes to a girl like you, or almost any girl…or boy."

"Pray, what is?" asked Elizabeth.

"You a-bein' 'fraid of war and stuff like that. Any man…or woman…in his or her right mind would do almost anything to avoid it."

"Aye, 'tis true," agreed Elizabeth.

"But we're talking about a boy here, Missy. A handsome, strapping seventeen-year-old teenage boy who can't help controlling his manly hormones from inciting him to grand, adventurous, dangerous things. Truth be told, there are causes similar to that of your friend Mr. Davidson, ya know. In reality."

"Mayhap," agreed Elizabeth dreamily.

"Then if that ain't the case, as your 'Mayhap' seems to imply, the 'mayhap' 'tis a lack of a sense of purpose."

Elizabeth looked up in admiration. "Aye, 'tis just the thing," she agreed almost right away. "My best friend confided to me that the reason why Ben is doing this is to gratify his sense of purpose."

"At the cost of leaving the rest of you behind to face the unknown in this timeline," finished the Chaplain.

"And that's what my best friend was complaining about," concluded Elizabeth.

"Hmm. That seems…quite bizarre. I…can't really imagine even a boy from your time doing something like that…It's peculiar." The Chaplain mulled over things again in silence.

"But then I'm beginning to suspect…somewhat…that because Be was to honorable to leave the rest of us behind, he decided to go to the virtual room…'to train for war', as my friend puts it."

"Oh, the holodeck, ya mean," inferred the Chaplain, as he chuckled genially to himself. "Well, boys tend to do that. As I very much recall, I remember doing something like that when I was about his age; ya know, Davidson's age. Maybe a little older than he is right now. I feel as though I'm downright itching to quote the first stanza of Psalm 114."

There was a brief moment of calm silence before a thought entered Chaplain Garland's head like a bolt of lightning. He involuntarily raised his right hand finger slightly from his desk.

"You know," he began. "I just had a thought about something. What if…you consider the possibility that he's…well…angry about something?"

"Angry?" inquired Elizabeth. "Pray, what for?"

"Well," replied the Chaplain. "As I initially mentioned to you not many seconds ago, the very idea of Ben going off to war simply 'cause it's fun is…not so normal, from my point of view; don't know how else to phrase it; given that war is a terribly ugly business to get involved in. Don't get me wrong, though; there _are_ cases of most men doin' somethin' like that. But if you look at the overall aspects of war…you'll come to see that it's awful bloody, plus it's agonizing to bear, even after your first skirmish. And you don't even come back half the man you were, in a literal sense of the world. Most people directly involved in battle come back as the shell of what used to be their former selves. I've seen it as well…" His voice trailed off. Those very thoughts were pretty much enough to make Elizabeth shudder. She really was scared of war itself; especially what it did to loved ones and livelihoods.

Then the Chaplain's eyes were fixed on Elizabeth, who at this point seemed pretty intense on waiting for his final answer.

"I apologize, Miss. I was digressing," admitted the Chaplain. "Anyway…as I said, it's possible that he's angry about something else. I don't know what the hell he's angry about, and I strongly suspect that Ben ain't gonna come in here seekin' advice from the likes of me simply 'cause I'm a 'Papist'. What I said to you about this anger stuff…are the things that you should bear in mind when you confide to your pal."

"Pal?" asked Elizabeth inquisitively. To her, the term was weird, as it had almost never been heard back in her time. This made the Chaplain throw weird glances at her.

"Your chum," replied the Chaplain in a rather brisk manner. "Buddy. Friend. Or however you happen to phrase it in your language."

Elizabeth chuckled to herself. "Oh, I apologize, Reverend," she said. "I'm…I'm just not used to such terms. They're not usually heard in my time."

"My apologies, Missy," said the Chaplain in a rather apologetic manner. He mulled over his thoughts again, then concluded that there was nothing further to counsel about the matter of hotheaded and rebellious Benjamin Davidson.

"Well, I guess that's pretty much it that I can tell you about the matter of poor Davidson's predicament," the Chaplain concurred. "If there's anything more aside from that, feel free to ask the Counselor. Any particular stuff on the matters of religiosity you can relay to me directly."

Elizabeth smiled. "I will," she replied. "Good day, Reverend," she greeted.

"G'Day, Miss Cole," waved the Chaplain back.

As Chaplain Garland put his both his feet cross-legged back on his desk, resumed his Breviary reading, and switched back on his personal computer that was playing the Gregorian Chant music on hi-fi, Elizabeth quitted the Chaplain's quarters, feeling somewhat satisfied about whatever helpful advice the Chaplain had told her.

* * *

A/N: I've almost always loved listening to Gregorian Chants. So I decided to have my Chaplain Garland character listen to that because it calms his mood whenever he feels rather disturbed about his interesting past.

Well, I hope the dialogue between Chaplain Garland and Elizabeth Cole wasn't very lame. I tried to keep the Chaplain as intellectual as I could, given the seeming limits of my 18-year-old mind (I'm 18 years old as I'm writing this).

* * *

And now for the teaser for the next chapter:

**ELIZABETH: (sighs) I've always been afraid of war, Ben. You may think 'tis fun to you, but it really isn't. War destroys everything; everything we hold most dear. So much killing, so much death, so many broken hearts. (falters) It devastates livelihoods, it destroys loved ones, it destroys people…and they never fully recover from war itself even if they survive…it can take years to recover from the aftermath of war…**

**BEN: (forced smile) You're just a big sissy, Elizabeth.**

**Elizabeth frowns at him.**

**BEN: (forcefully) What?**

**ELIZBETH: To fight for a noble and worthy cause is admirable. But there are ways to fight injustice without taking up arms.**

**BEN: (sighs) That's what Lissie keeps saying.**

**ELIZABETH: Aye, it is. 'Twould do well for you to know that Ben, for Lissie still puts her hopes in you.**

**BEN: (almost sarcastically) Really? I thought Lissie broke her friendship with me.**

**ELIZABETH: Aye, I'll admit my best friend has the tendency to strike the hearts of people like lightning. But Ben, (pleadingly) if only you would understand how much you're needed...with Lissie...with all of us...**

**BEN: I'm a Patriot. You're not that particularly fond of Patriots. They're intolerable hotheads. Like me.**

**ELIZABETH: (solemnly) I don't care whether you're a Patriot or a Loyalist, Ben. What matters is you're needed with us. You're older, you're stronger...**

NOTE: This trailer is a concept idea. The format of the words and sentences in the upcoming chapter may not be the same. This is to give you a idea as to what the rest of the Chapter will possibly contain.

Any further ideas, comments, and opinions regarding the dialogue between Elizabeth and Ben, when Elizabeth tries her best to persuade Ben from running off on his escapades and convince him to stay with the group?


	30. Chapter 30

_**Star Trek: The Next Generation – Souvenirs**_

**Written By:**_** Commander Cody CC-2224**_

Authors Notes:

Well, it seems that our hotheaded Ben Davidson is starting to have second thoughts about devastating his friendship and love with Felicity. But his rebellious nature is still getting the better of him. Can Felicity's sweet-tempered friend Elizabeth succeed where hotheaded Felicity has failed to do in regard to persuading Ben to come back to his senses?

This chapter seems to be quite interesting because in _Felicity Saves the Day_, it was Felicity who was able to convince Ben to abandon his attempt to run away from his apprenticeship with her father and join Washington's army. But Ben has taken his rebellious teenage nature to another level to the point where he is in danger of losing Felicity forever and ends up regretting it later in life. So Felicity seems forced to admit defeat for the time being and let her best friend Elizabeth do her part in convincing Ben to stay with the group, as well as with Felicity herself.

* * *

CHAPTER 30

That same day, sometime in the late afternoon around 1507 hours, Ben was in the Library Facility on Deck 14. The entire library was well-lit with ceiling-based fluorescent lights, and there was quite an ample amount of antiquated-looking hardbound books containing classical material from Earth's past. About a handful of square tables, each lined with upright cushion chairs, were scattered throughout the room. The atmosphere in the Library was very inviting and serene.

For now, Ben was busying himself to viewing various historical miscellanies on the Library Computer Access and Retrieval System (LCARS), which graphically displayed data charts, photographs, and paragraphs in amazing special effects on the LCD, which could only have been made possible by a super-powerful and efficient computer processor. Ben didn't seem to mind the drowning dulcet female voice of the computer reciting out summaries of the miscellanies; in fact, it seemed to help him, given that there was quite a wealth of information on the LCARS for his 18th century mind to comprehend.

"LIBRARY COMPUTER ACCESS AND RETRIEVAL SYSTEM ONLINE," said the computer voice.

Ben cleared his throat, feeling relieved and at the same time, amazed at what technology could do. "Computer," he began. "Make a list of all the battles that took place during the war."

The system emitted two audible beeps. "SPECIFY PARAMETERS."

Ben made a face that seemed to hint a slight degree of frustration. But he kept his head cool. "What…was the war that took place around the year 1776?" he asked, hoping that the computer knew the answer to that question.

"THE AMERICAN WAR FOR INDEPENDENCE, MOST NOTABLY KNOWN AS THE AMERICAN REVOLUTION. FROM 1775 TO 1781 THE THIRTEEN AMERICAN COLONIES BANDED TOGETHER AND FOUGHT BITTERLY AGAINST THE BRITISH EMPIRE FOR GREATER AUTONOMY…"

"My God…" whispered Ben in shock and awe. "1781? I'd be…" He couldn't bring himself to finish the sentence. The whole thing was too much. He thought for a moment while the computer kept spewing up facts and factoids about that particular war that was part and parcel of basic American history learning.

"Computer, make a list of all the battles that took place during the 'War for Independence'."

The computer instantaneously displayed list after list of all the battles that took place during the war. For Ben the list was overwhelming.

"Make a list of the battles that took place from the beginning of the war to 1776." Ben made this request because he was interested on what battles were taking place from the beginning of the war to the year they were transported to the 24th century, as he didn't get to have his share of the glory on account of his apprenticeship to Mr. Merriman. The computer immediately displayed the same list, but narrowed down the search by drawing a thick red line around a certain portion at the beginning of the list and zooming in closer. At the same time, Ben couldn't help feeling awed by the glamorous special effects that were taking place on the hi-definition LCD screen.

"S-Start with the first one," ordered Ben. In other words, the first battle to ever take place during the war.

The computer started its droning screed. "THE BATTLE OF LEXINGTON, MASSACHUSETTS. IN THE AMERICAN WAR FOR INDEPENDENCE, THE BATTLE OF LEXINGTON WAS AMONG THE FIRST OF MANY BATTLES TO COME DURING THE INCEPTION OF THE WAR. AFTER AN EFFECTIVE MILITIA WARNING BY PAUL REVERE AND WILLIAM DAWES, A MOTTLED MILITIA UNIT UNDER THE COMMAND OF CAPTAIN PARKER ENGAGED AGAINST THE OFFENSIVE BRITISH FORCES OF MAJOR JOHN PITCAIRN. THE BATTLE WAS THUS INSTRUMENTAL IN STAGING OFF WHAT WAS TO BE KNOWN AS THE AMERICAN REVOLUTIONARY WAR,…"

"Next," interrupted Ben.

The computer began its next screed on the next battle known to take place after the one in Lexington and Concord. "THE BATTLE OF BUNKER HILL, MOST NOTABLY KNOWN IN ACTUALITY AS THE BATTLE OF BREED'S HILL. IN THE AMERICAN WAR FOR INDEPENDENCE, THE BATTLE OF BUNKER HILL WAS AMONG THE MOST DEVASTATING AND DECISIVE. LOCATED ON THE HILLY REGIONS NEAR THE OUTSKIRTS OF BOSTON, MASSACHUSETTS, BREED'S HILL WAS CONSIDERED A KEY POSITION BY BOTH AMERICAN AND BRITISH SIDES, AND WAS BITTERLY FOUGHT OVER. THE AMERICAN COLONISTS, WITH TWELVE THOUSAND INFANTRY UNITS OF THE BOSTON MILITIA, UNDER THE LEADERSHIP OF THE RENOWNED COLONEL WILLIAM PRESCOTT, ENTRENCHED IN THE ARTIFICIAL FORTIFICATIONS OF BREED'S HILL, HELD AGAINST THE FORCES OF THE BRITISH EMPIRE FOR TWELVE CONSECUTIVE HOURS, UNTIL SUPERIOR NUMBERS FROM THE BRITISH SIDE OVERWHELMED THE AMERICAN FORCES TO THE POINT WHERE THEY WERE FORCED TO RETREAT. THOUGH THE BATTLE WAS WON BY THE BRITISH, THEY SUFFERED HEAVY CASUALTIES AFTERWARD, WHERE THE SUPREME COMMANDER OF THE FIELD, GENERAL THOMAS GAGE, DEEMED THE ENTIRE CAMPAIGN, A PYRRHIC VICTORY. THE BATTLE, THEREFORE…"

"Stop," Ben interrupted the computer again. The computer stopped its droning, and the room was silent, save for a lone Starfleet crewman behind Ben way back in the room itself, staring at his PADD.

Ben had an idea. _What if he knew when the war ended? If America won the war, how did she do it?_ These were prodding questions that Ben wanted to have answered. So he brought in his next request to the LCARS computer system.

"Computer, what was the last battle of the war?"

"THE BATTLE OF YORKTOWN, VIRGINIA, MOST NOTABLY KNOWN AS THE SIEGE OF YORKTOWN. THE BATTLE OF YORKTOWN WAS THE LAST MAJOR BATTLE OF THE AMERICAN WAR FOR INDEPENDENCE THAT WOULD DECIDE THE FATE OF THE THIRTEEN AMERICAN COLONIES IN ITS DESTINY IN BECOMING AN AUTONOMOUS NATION. LOCATED IN THE CHESAPEAKE COLONY OF VIRGINIA, THE TOWN WAS CONSIDERED A KEY POSITION BY THE FORCES OF THE BRITISH EMPIRE, UNDER THE SUPREME COMMAND OF BRITISH GENERAL LORD CHARLES CORNWALLIS, AS A CRUCIAL MILITARY BASE ON THE VIRGINIA CAPES OF THE EAST COAST, FOR RESUPPLYING THE BRITISH ARMY. FORTIFICATIONS WERE BUILT AROUND THE TOWN UNDER THE DIRECT MANAGEMENT OF CORNWALLIS AND GENERAL O'HARA PRIOR TO ITS INVASION BY ALLIED FORCES OF THE AMERICANS AND THE FRENCH. THE AMERICANS, WITH EIGHT THOUSAND INFANTRY REGULARS AND THREE THOUSAND ONE HUNDRED MILITIA INFANTRY, UNDER THE COMMAND OF SUPREME COMMANDER-IN-CHIEF, GENERAL GEORGE WASHINGTON, ASSISTED BY BOTH THE FRENCH MILTARY FORCES, UNDER THE SUPREME COMMAND OF THE MARQUIS DE LAFAYAETTE, AND THE FRENCH NAVAL FORCES, UNDER THE SUPREME COMMAND OF FLEET ADMIRAL CHARLES DE GRASSE, COMMENCED THE ASSAULT, SURROUNDING THE BRITISH FORCES, NUMBERING NINE THOUSAND STRONG, AND BOMBARDING THE TOWN. INITIAL MOVEMENTS WERE MADE ON SEPTEMBER THE TWENTY-SIXTH, WHEN…"

Ben became very much taken aback that the last battle of the war would take place right at his hometown. Yorktown was his hometown, and the very idea of the final battle of the war being decided on that spot was awesome, at least from a historical point of view, though he kind of knew that such an honor would come at the cost of having his hometown in near ruins.

While the computer was droning on about the Siege of Yorktown, two familiar visitors entered the library. It was O'Brien and Elizabeth.

"Hi," greeted O'Brien, speaking in the middle of the computer system's audio-based lecture.

The greeting was almost enough to scare Ben out of his wits. He was somewhat fearful of someone catching him on whatever he was doing, given that he was a guest from time, and he had to abide by the Federation's rather stringent Temporal Prime Directive.

"Watching the latest and greatest of news, I take it?" O'Brien asked huffily.

Ben immediately faced the screen in snappy motion. "Stop," he ordered. The computer stopped babbling, and the room was silent again as Ben slowly faced O'Brien and Elizabeth.

"Ahem," O'Brien cleared his throat. "You do realize…that by viewing futuristic material on the LCARS you were violating the Temporal Prime Directive."

Ben was at odds what to say. "I'm…I'm sorry, sir," he stammered, feeling somewhat anxious about what O'Brien was going to do to him for that. "I was just…"

"Curious?" asked O'Brien, interrupting Ben. "Well, that's quite understandable. But then again, no person of the past should ever know too much about the future. 'Twill disturb their very minds."

Elizabeth took a curious glance at the LCD. "What was that all about?" she asked in an air of innocent, petite curiosity.

"Um…futuristic battle," said Ben, shrugging his shoulders. "A final battle that was won…on the Patriot side, of course."

Elizabeth shot Ben a demurely serious look, then perked her head back on the screen. "What does it say about the death toll?" she asked anxiously.

Ben cast a look at Elizabeth that indicated how weird and silly she was to ask such a question. "I beg your pardon?" he asked tactlessly. Shrugging again, he turned back to the computer screen. "Computer, state the casualties and losses on both sides of the battle."

The computer began its babbling in a rather tactless and impersonal manner. "AMERICAN SIDE: APPROXIMATELY SEVENTY-TWO KILLED IN ACTION, ONE HUNDRED AND EIGHTY WOUNDED. BRITISH SIDE: APPROXIMATELY THREE HUNDRED AND NINE KILLED IN ACTION, THREE HUNDRED AND TWENTY-SIX WOUNDED, EIGHT THOUSAND AND EIGHTY-SEVEN CAPTURED."

At this point Elizabeth heaved a heartfelt, heavy sigh, and shook her head in a sad manner, as her flowing blonde hair shook rather playfully. "Those poor lads…" she whispered unhappily.

Ben turned his head back on Elizabeth. "Who's they?" he asked her.

"Boys…boys on both sides, killing each other, just to settle a dispute over…" Elizabeth's voice trailed off as she forlornly shook her head. "I don't know…you might feel offended about what I would say about the war."

"A lot of battles had a far worse casualty list than what you are looking at right now, Miss Cole," said O'Brien. "Though I admit, I kind of sympathize with you on that particular matter."

Elizabeth sighed sadly. "I've always been afraid of war, Ben," she said calmly and solemnly. "You may think 'tis fun to you, but it really isn't. War destroys everything; everything we hold most dear. So much killing, so much death, so many broken hearts." Her little voice faltered a bit. "It devastates livelihoods, it destroys loved ones, it destroys people…and they never fully recover from war itself even if they survive…it can take years to recover from the aftermath of war…"

Ben sighed, but only out of exasperation over what he perceived to be a sissy's perception of war as a whole.

"How utterly poetic," remarked O'Brien rather wryly.

"Poetic?" inquired Elizabeth anxiously, looking up at O'Brien out of curiosity.

"Yeah. See, I've been watching too many ancient film classics that deal with some aspects of war, most notably Margaret Mitchell's _Gone With The Wind_…" He paused for a brief moment before resuming. "I think I can sort of understand you on that basis, Miss Cole."

The room was silent for a moment before O'Brien struck up the conversation again.

"But sometimes war is needed to root out the forces of evil," he said. "There are some people who cannot be reconciled by peaceable means, and will on occasion, warrant a good kick in the arse."

Elizabeth could not help letting out a muffled giggle at the sound of such a term nobody would normally be hearing in polite society. Both her hands were covering her mouth.

"Though most of the time, peaceable means is sometimes preferable to the military solution," continued O'Brien a little forcefully and seriously. "However, peace at any price, is to me…unacceptable, so on occasion, I will go off to war if necessary to fight off the wolves that unethically seek out the helpless prey. I think the same analogy would fit for Mr. Davidson as well."

O'Brien shot a look of keen observance at both Ben and Elizabeth and made an understanding face. "If you two feel like you need some alone time with each other, I can leave."

"All right," said Elizabeth. "But…"

"No, no, no," interrupted O'Brien briskly. "Don't want to get in the way of 18th century conversation unless I have to." He immediately quitted the library room, leaving both Ben and Elizabeth alone in the library to discuss personal things with each other in private. Not that Ben had any other relationship with Elizabeth, but Elizabeth herself needed some quiet time to make her serious convinces to Ben about coming back to his senses.

"So, tell me, Ben," ordered Elizabeth as sweet-temperedly as she could. "How did you manage to get here in the first place."

"One of the folks directed me here," replied Ben. "He said 'twas an interesting place to look up interesting…things."

Elizabeth cast Ben a demurely serious look. "I dearly hope you've heard and understood what I've said about the entirety of war, Ben," she said solemnly.

Ben forced a smile of mockery, as if he had the inclination to tease Elizabeth. "You're just a big sissy, Elizabeth," he said rather sarcastically. "No wonder the Patriots seem to be winning; the proper young Tory ladies don't even seem to have the guts to…" He stopped, as he took notice of Elizabeth frowning at him. Her pretty cheeks were slightly flushed in hurt anger.

"What?" asked Ben forcefully.

"Ben, there's no need to rub it in," replied Elizabeth, feeling hurt by what Ben was saying. "I was just warning you about what you will encounter in the midst of war. Why do you have to act so unkind towards me?"

"'Cause it's…my nature?"

Elizabeth snorted. "If that were so, then your nature is wholly perverted. I should indeed be justified in saying that the colonists are uncivilized hotheads."

"Now that's what I hear to be quite a manly answer, coming from the likes of you, Lizzie," remarked Ben, playfully wagging his right hand index finger at her.

Elizabeth sighed in exasperation. "Look, Ben. 'Tis not as if I'm discouraging you to go," she said. "I'm just saying…"

"But you are," snarled Ben, as he towered over her petite figure like a mean old bully. Poor Elizabeth shrank back winced in fright over Ben's towering 17-year-old figure. "You're in effect saying that all war is bad, which in most cases is true only to you. You're just afraid of it is all. Are you disparaging me about fighting for what I believe is right?"

Elizabeth breathed slowly and regained her ladylike composure. "I am not disparaging you, Ben," she said innocently. "To fight in a war for a noble and worthy cause is admirable. But there are ways to fight injustice without taking up arms."

Ben snorted voluminously. "That's what Lissie keeps saying. Mayhap she's been too influenced by her Grandfather. That old Loyalist."

"There's no need for such disparaging attitudes against us Loyalists," said Elizabeth seriously.

Ben flounced at her. "See, that's the very reason why I decided to run away a second time. Your comments. I just can't speak my thoughts without you older girls criticizing my every word."

Elizabeth widened her eyes. "Oh. So that's the very reason why you decided to run away again. You're angry about something. Mayhap you're angry with us, and possibly everything that poses as a reminder of us." In her mind she began to suspect that Chaplain Garland was kind of right about the idea of Ben being angry at something else. But Elizabeth refrained from mentioning anything about the Chaplain aloud, for fear that Ben would most likely do something nasty with her, especially if he knew what his religious affiliation was.

"Aye," replied Ben tactlessly. For him there was no need to mince words at this point, since Elizabeth would suspect anyway.

"What happened to forgiveness, Ben?" Elizabeth asked him sadly. It was one of these virtues that she sort of emphasized on her best friend when it came to curing the meanness of Mr. Nye, the old, rustic horse-beater whom Felicity had very much taken a personal dislike to back in 1774.

"It died," replied Ben rather tactlessly, as he stared back at the computer screen. "Just as my affections for Lissie have died with me."

Elizabeth hung her head. "That is sad," she said ruefully. "Because I still think Lissie still has some shred of love for you, even if she's two headstrong and upset with you to even admit it."

Ben immediately faced Elizabeth. "Really?" he asked her sarcastically. "I thought Lissie ended her friendship with me."

"Aye, I'll admit my best friend has the tendency to strike the hearts of people like lightning," replied Elizabeth regretfully. She thought for a moment. "But Ben," she pleaded. "If only you would understand how much you're needed…with Lissie…with all of us…"

"I'm a Patriot," protested Ben. "You're not that particularly fond of Patriots. They're intolerable hotheads. Like me."

"I don't care whether you're a Patriot or a Loyalist, Ben" said Elizabeth solemnly but determinedly. "What matters now is that you're needed with us. You're older and stronger than we older girls are…"

"Right. I get your point," said Ben wryly. "At least."

"Good," said Elizabeth a little firmly. "Because you now are a bit willing to listen to me, I can then go to the next step in convincing you to regain back your friendship and your love for Lissie, before you find yourself in a situation where you cannot regain both forever."

Ben heaved an exasperated sigh. Having to put up with to a little girl lecture him about the nuances of love affairs was a bit too much, since he was older than Elizabeth; in fact, six years older than she was.

"So what's your practical plan for convincing me to be reconciled with the wonderfully hotheaded Lissie?" asked Ben, crossing his arms akimbo.

Elizabeth took a dainty step closer to Ben. She wasn't angry anymore, but her face was rather straight and calm. "I do not believe your affections for Lissie have died with you," she said gently. "Despite all the anger you vent at her, you still kindle within the depths of your heart the celestial fires of a burning, heartfelt love."

Ben immediately faced her, goggling. "I-wha…Lizzie, you're just being dramatic again for mischievous fun," he said rather sarcastically.

"I am?" asked Elizabeth gently, smiling an impish smile. Her charms were too irresistible to ignore. He avid blue eyes sparkled like diamonds in the bathing fluorescent light.

"Well…yes," sputtered Ben in a rather reluctant manner. He found himself having difficulty denying it. Ben was still nursing some kind of love spark for Felicity, but he himself was almost afraid to admit it. For him it would have been too unmanly for him.

"How is it that you seem to know what I'm feeling?" Ben asked Elizabeth, looking at her skeptically.

"I can see it in your eyes," replied Elizabeth.

Ben turned his head back to the computer screen. "'Tis somewhat pointless to fight in a battle that I know now will be won by the Patriot side," he said rather ruefully. "Why bother anyway? Besides I doubt now that any opportunity for me to go back to our timeline will ever come."

"Because you wanted a sense of purpose," replied Elizabeth.

Ben was a little surprised by Elizabeth's perception. "That's right, I did," he remarked to himself. "How do you know that?"

"A friend of mine told me," said Elizabeth cautiously, in reference to Chaplain Garland.

"Who?"

"A reverend told me," said Elizabeth. "He's a friend of mine."

Ben shrugged as he faced Elizabeth again and put his hands in the pockets of his breeches. "I didn't know you were that good with making friends with men of God," he remarked in a friendly manner. "I thought the men of God at Bruton Parish were too busy contemplating aspects of religiosity to even bother making friends with little girls such as yourself."

Elizabeth approached Ben closer. "What if your purpose in life at this point was to take care of Lissie and us?" she asked gently, taking hold of Ben's right hand.

Ben looked at Elizabeth. "But Lissie told me she could get along fine without me."

"She would appreciate a bit more help," said Elizabeth sweetly.

"But you know her," Ben protested. "She's determined to get along fine without me. I saw it in her eyes the time she quitted the virtual room I was in when she stormed off in a huff."

"Not really," said Elizabeth. "I firmly believe she still sets her heart on you. She wants you. So much."

Ben was about to make another protest when he opened his mouth to talk, but Elizabeth hushed him.

"Ben," said Elizabeth earnestly. "For Lissie's sake, and for all our sakes, I encourage you to abandon your irresponsible escapades and reconcile with her. Please. Before it's too late."

"It's already too late for that," protested Ben. "Lissie's dead set now, and dead set she will always be."

"No it isn't," said Elizabeth. "I've done my best through the course of the day to help Lissie maintain in the bottom of her heart that ardent celestial spark of love for you, but it won't be kept that way for long. Please, Ben." There was a look of earnestness in Elizabeth's face.

"Those things take a while, you know. I've already abandoned my friendship with Lissie in one swift stroke. It would take twice as long to regain her friendship and her love back."

"Then 'twould be best if you started sooner," said Elizabeth gently in a kind of motherly way. "Opportunity will only knock but once."

Ben curled his lips and looked at Elizabeth. "Fine," he said. "Very well. I'll stay with the lot of you, but only if you stop criticizing me on my every word and move."

"You kind of have it," said Elizabeth rather hesitantly.

"Second, I get tired of having Lissie snap at me like so for…you know what."

"Like looking at that indecent article?" asked Elizabeth.

"Aye. I want her to be a little more florid in her criticisms about such things because…well, she isn't a boy, so she has no call to criticize me about such things without walking at least half a mile in my black buckled shoes."

"She only wanted to protect you from perversion of your heart," said Elizabeth.

"As if I was such a child," said Ben wryly. "Do we have a deal on those terms?" he asked Elizabeth forcefully, extending his right hand as if expecting a cordial handshake. Elizabeth slowly formed a charming smile on her face and unexpectedly hugged him warmly. Such an act of love made Ben have second thoughts about setting such terms between him and Felicity.

"On second thought, Lizzie, I still love the spunky, lively, hotheaded Felicity Merriman that I know. I wouldn't ever want it to change."

"So you still love her, no matter how she acts or is?"

"I have to admit, I still do," said Ben quietly.

Elizabeth faced Ben warmly. "Then 'twould be best if you went to your Lissie," she said gently.

"Well, don't rush things," said Ben. "I want to make that decision on my own." He thought for a moment. "Now in order to woo her back…" he muttered to himself as he took a seat on one of the chairs near a square table in the library, with Elizabeth following him.

"Oh, no, Ben, I wouldn't rush things," said Elizabeth, being a practical girl. She tenderly planted a kiss on Ben's forehead in order to soften his heart up a bit. "Take your time…" she said quietly with a smile. "But don't take forever. Otherwise you'll end up losing Lissie's heart."

Ben looked up at Elizabeth. "I'll bear that in mind," he said quietly as well. Beaming back, Elizabeth took her graceful leave from the library in order that the rest of the events between Ben and Felicity unfold.

* * *

A/N: Stats about said battles were derived from the Wikipedia website (use a search engine to find the web address, as seems to be against allowing me to post the web address directly onto this document.

I asked pansyphoenix about the nature of Elizabeth's dislike (well, hatred) for war in general, and I thought I should post these replies in my Author's Notes so that the reader can understand why Elizabeth is acting as such they way I'm depicting her in my Star Trek/Felicity fanfic. And here are the replies:

"I believe that Elizabeth hates war, no matter whose side she's on, and that it is people who kill people, not the guns themselves. She can not have spent time with Felicity and NOT have become brave and surprising herself! She might enjoy the beauty of a collected weapon, or a carved handle, or the painted stock of a rifle, just not approve of it being used to hurt someone. I think she can appreciate hunting for food as a necessity if she were living in the woods and hand to kill for food, but I believe she disapproves of war and killing to solve a matter."

"I would say Elizabeth is definitely old enough to know about war! I would believe she just hates killing in general, the using of life-ending violence to solve a matter when people are capable of rational thought and understanding. Her peaceful, serene nature suggests she's just non-violent...but Felicity is bound to rub off on her, so maybe she would become a LITTLE more pro-action!"


	31. Chapter 31

_**Star Trek: The Next Generation – Souvenirs**_

**Written By:**_** Commander Cody CC-2224**_

CHAPTER 31

The _Enterprise_ still kept soaring across space at a low warp factor.

Across the confines of Deck 10 could be heard the very faint sounds of a calm guitar tune. The environment across the deck was serene and homely.

The sound of music emanated from the Guest Quarters. Alone in the living area, Felicity was seated on Ben's trundle bed, playing a little tune that Miss Manderly taught her on a replicated guitar she managed to get her hands on at the Replimat. The guitar was very similar to the guitar her Grandfather gave her on her tenth birthday, and it almost seemed that whoever gave her that guitar probably knew a bit about her memory logs, since most of their personal information about her daily life, as well as the lives of her close-knit family members and friends back in 1776 could be found there.

The serene-sounding, slumber-inviting tune on the guitar seemed to be her only consolation to her, as it pretty much the only thing that could help her get over the undeniable, agitating gap that Ben had just recently left her in her life. True, she had her best friend Elizabeth with her, as well as her dear little siblings, but she had set her heart on Ben for quite a long time where she seemed to experience even more perturbing heartaches the more she tried to put Ben out of her life. The kind of calm and semi-mournful tune seemed to be a kind of prayer to her God calling her to comfort her in her hour of seeming despondency, and Felicity was completely wrapped up in the soul-stirring nature of the music she was playing on the guitar.

After what seemed to be an eternity from Felicity's experience, the door chime rang, nearly startling her out of her very wits that she immediately pressed her hands firmly on the guitar in a ready position.

"Come," said Felicity in a half-enthusiastic sort of way.

The automatic sliding doors parted and in entered Chief O'Brien. Feeling a tad startled, Felicity stared at him in dismay, her mouth half-opened in shock, as if O'Brien himself had the audacity to invade her privacy.

"Nice music you were playing," remarked O'Brien in a semi-curt manner. "I could literally hear you from outside near the door."

"Thank you, Mr. O'Brien," replied Felicity a little hesitantly.

O'Brien shot skeptical glances across the room. "Where are the rest of your pals?" he asked Felicity.

"Elizabeth…" began Felicity, gulping, "Decided to take Nan and William for a little visit to the crafts room."

"'Twould still be a bad idea to get separated from each other," remarked O'Brien dryly. "You never know if something unpleasant happens on board this ship."

"I suppose…" said Felicity, faltering. She would bear that in mind, but her thoughts were on Ben for the moment.

O'Brien sat near Felicity's right side. "I heard you seemed to be in a situation similar to poor little princess in the fairy tale of King Turnip Counter," he said.

Felicity shot a skeptical look at O'Brien. "I beg your pardon, sir?" she asked in dismay.

O'Brien cleared his throat. "Well, I paid a nice little visit to the monitor station and saw your little friend Miss Cole have a nice warm chat with her Chaplain friend. She said 'twas about your crush with that Davidson lad."

Felicity heaved a rather unhappy sigh. "Please, sir, I don't…I don't want to talk about it," she said rather forcefully. "'Tis too painful for me."

"Really?" asked O'Brien skeptically. "I thought you were a rather brave girl."

"Some things I can never be brave about," said Felicity. "Especially matters that harrow the depths of my soul. And such matters as the one with Ben…is something I'd rather not talk about at the moment."

"Not much talking to do, Miss," replied O'Brien. "I've got something that can ease your otherwise frayed nerves a little." He immediately put down a small computer chip the size of a regular 21st century RAM card on the trundle bead near Felicity, along with a device in the shape of classic medieval shield, nearly two inches in length and one and a half inch wide.

"What's that?" asked Felicity dryly.

"It's a holo-emitter," replied O'Brien. "Plug it on any particular holographic character anywhere, shoulder preferred, if it's a humanoid character, and you can take him virtually anywhere on board this liner for a nice little stroll."

Felicity pointed her right hand index finger at the chip near her left side. "And that?" she asked a little curtly.

O'Brien smiled a bit. "Holoprogram Colonial Williamsburg," he said.

That answer was enough to make Felicity shrink back a bit, mouth agape slightly. Then she slipped into a rather dreamlike trance, her sparkling green eyes reflecting in the fluorescent light and enveloped in rapture as she fondly remembered her beloved hometown back on Earth in 1776. "Williamsburg…" she murmured dreamily. "My beloved hometown…"

O'Brien broke the enchantment. "Aye," he said. "Thought you might like to get a teasing taste of that beautiful colonial town. For your own personal enjoyment, of course."

Felicity was a little too stunned to even say as much as a thank you to O'Brien. "How do I make use of them?" she asked curiously.

* * *

Felicity was now outside the entrance of the Guest Quarters, with the doors closed behind her, with her holoprogram chip and her holo-emitter device firmly clasped in the palm of her right hand. Donning her red cardinal cloak a bit, she calmly took long steady, but not too ladylike strides across the holodeck corridors unescorted. As she sauntered across, two Starfleet ensigns in yellow uniform, with one holding a PADD and discussing stuff to his buddies, and the other listening intently, passed by her. A crewwoman with curly-brown hair in a turquoise-blue jumpsuit uniform of the Science Division passed her by, too, without a single word.

Unbeknownst to Felicity there was someone familiar behind her. It was Ben, and he was at the far end of the corridor watching her saunter across. Daring not to make so much of a sound, lest Felicity have the audacity to throw one of her shoes at him again, he prepared to surreptitiously sneak himself into the Guest Quarters without anyone catching a glimpse of him, not even Felicity herself.

By accident, Ben made a slight scratching sound at the curved end of the corridor. Felicity perked up and turned her head behind to her left side, facing the end where she heard the scratching sound. After staring at the corridor end for a brief minute, she immediately turned her head forward and kept walking to her destination.

When Felicity's back was now facing him, Ben leaned to his left of the corridor curve to take another good look again. Seeing nobody else familiar, he tiptoed to the Guest Quarters entrance and rang the door chime with the touch of the touch-button. Hearing no answer, he assumed that nobody was there, though he braced himself in case anyone was actually there, even if there was no answer. After cautiously pushing his body closer to the sealed doors, the doors immediately gave way, and Ben entered into the room without much of a mishap.

* * *

Ben was now inside the guest quarters. The entire room itself had an eerie calm hovering in the atmosphere. He relaxed a little, keeping his head alert should any members of the group sneak up on him and start yelling at him like heck.

He immediately took notices of the broken pieces of the personal computer untidily stacked in a rather disorganized heap. He remembered hearing a crashing sound almost immediately after he left the room subsequent to the acrimonious argument he had with Felicity, as well as an angry shout which could have been heard slightly through the muffled walls, something to the impression that Felicity was shouting "All boys are jerks!" After a brief moment in meditation he deduced that it was Felicity who broke the electronic device.

His head immediately awoke and became conscious of the time. Quietly he moseyed to the front part of the desk and calmly opened the top drawer. A tinge of relief took over him, as he found the tricorder device still intact. If Felicity had found it, no doubt she would have broken it as well. _That little Patriot hothead_, thought Ben through a forced, dry smile. Quickly he fished out the tricorder from the desk drawer, stuffed it into his right side coat pocket, and briskly shut the drawer. After a hasty review of the room settings in order to make sure he didn't disturb a single thing, he immediately walked out of the room with great, hasty strides.

* * *

Felicity made her quiet arrival to the entrance of Holodeck 2 in a slightly brisk manner. The holodeck doors opened promptly and she stepped into the hologrid room. Then she immediately turned to the right side of the arch relative to where she was at the entranceway and slipped the holoprogram chip into a fairly visible slot, just like O'Brien told her. The result was an ultra-realistic historical setting of Colonial Williamsburg in the afternoon daytime, in the exact era of 1776.

Stepping slowly into the sunlit streets, she heard the holodeck doors shut behind her. She instinctively turned her head only to notice the doors shutting themselves completely and disappearing entirely like magic.

Facing forward, with a cool breeze playing with her vibrant red hair, Felicity took a mesmerizing trip down memory lane on the Familiar Duke of Gloucester Street. Her sparkling green eyes absorbed every sight like it had never before. She really missed Williamsburg a lot.

* * *

In the Library Facility room, Ben came across a personal computer at the right hand corner. Taking his seat on the plush fabric-lined chairs he settled himself as he plugged the tricorder into the right hand side of the computer. The screen lit up, and the very beginning of Felicity's memories were streaming like video-recorded movie file.

He stared at the screen rather intently as he viewed the first-person motion picture from Felicity's literally visual point of view, and listening to Felicity's thoughts in the private areas of her mind, which included thoughts about everything, but most importantly, thoughts and opinions on Ben himself.

Gradually he became filled with a sense of remorse over throwing away his friendship and newfound love for Felicity. He came to the point where he came to the great and undeniable realization that he loved her so much, but he was too guilty with his own imperfections, as well as his own seeming aberrant and rebellious behavior, to even admit it. In a scene in the memory logs where Felicity was staring at her reflections in her quiet bedchamber mirror, he started having an insatiable longing to touch and stroke her vibrant red hair, look deep into her snappy, sparkling emerald-green eyes, and kiss her pretty cheeks. He suddenly felt his heart start pumping rather furiously over the very idea of doing those things with Felicity again.

Ben relaxed himself in his chair and pondered over the idea of reconciling himself with Felicity. Knowing Felicity, Ben knew that if he really forsook her she would be determined to get along without him. Then there was the looming possibility of getting another hard smack in the face from her, or even the possibility of her throwing one of her black buckled shoes at him, as was imminent during his argument with the girl. But Elizabeth was right; opportunity would only knock at once, and if he didn't put aside his newfound fears he would never get back Felicity ever again. So in his mind he began planning his own personal strategy for reconcilement.

* * *

Felicity was at Nicholson street, where she viewed the utterly familiar sight of Miss Manderly's house. The sight triggered in her mind a torrent of fond memories of her lessons with the graceful Miss Frances Manderly, and the best part was that her best friend Elizabeth was with her. But the mind-boggling simulation had much in store for her, and as much as Felicity wanted to visit that house (and if a Miss Manderly character ever existed in Colonial Williamsburg simulation), she felt a sweeping anxious feeling over her head to visit the Merriman General Store on Duke of Gloucester.

So off she went, skipping down the busy, fairly crowded sunlit streets like an unladylike toddler until she reached the store. Immediately after she entered, she became very much taken aback, it was her father. Or rather, a virtual character version of her father, doing business with just another virtual customer.

The holodeck character of Mr. Merriman glanced at her after he was finished with his customer. "Good day, my dearest Lissie," he said jovially and courteously.

Felicity was too surprised to return the greeting, her mind racing to answer the question as to how such a holographic character like that could recognize her and even know her name.

"G-G-Good day,…Father," stammered Felicity.

The Mr. Merriman character acted as though he thought everything was normal, but managed to detect the troubled state of Felicity. "Pray, what makes you have difficulty recognizing your own father, Miss Felicity?"

"I-I…um…" Felicity couldn't find the right words.

"You act as though you haven't seen me in a long time," said the Mr. Merriman character.

"Aye, 'tis true," faltered Felicity. I haven't.

The Mr. Merriman character acted as though the whole thing was just a joke. "Nonsense, my dear sweet girl! You come every day to the store, which by all means is lucky for you. How can you dwell on such thoughts?"

Felicity gulped in a rather reluctant manner. "Because you're not real," she said sadly.

"Tosh," replied the Mr. Merriman character wryly. "I'm as real as you can plainly see. Hush with such nonsense."

"You're just a make-believe character," admitted Felicity, feeling as though she was about to cry. She pushed that feeling away for the time being.

Then suddenly something terrible happened to her. Immediately after Felicity uttered those words, the Mr. Merriman character suddenly cast a scary glare at her. Approaching her in a rather imperious manner, he readied his right hand to strike.

SLAP!

To Felicity's anguished dismay, the Mr. Merriman character slapped her in her face! Felicity was very much startled. She couldn't take her eyes off the character's angry gaze. Frightened, she immediately asked the holodeck computer to shut off the program.

"Computer, end program!" she cried hastily. In an instant the entire setting and environment of Colonial Williamsburg disappeared entirely like magic as if it was ethereal. Felicity now found herself scattered on the floor in a fairly disheveled heap in the midst of the typical yellow hologrid surroundings.

Instinctively Felicity raised her right hand to touch the area on her right cheek where she got slapped by the Mr. Merriman character. She felt her cheek stinging as she gently rubbed it with the palm of her right hand. She felt angry; why did her father slap her? _Father never did terrible things like that_, she thought to herself bitterly. _Is this some form of chastisement for slapping my beloved Ben in the face? Oh, God, please don't do this to me_, she pleaded in her anxious mind.

Suddenly the holodeck entrance doors opened and in stepped Lt. Keswick, though Felicity didn't know who he was. She just thought it was another ordinary ship crewman, and he was in a turquoise-blue jumpsuit uniform.

"Enjoying the program so far?" Keswick asked as courteously as he could. There seemed to be a hit of supreme intelligence and a tinge of a geek's demeanor in Keswick, even if he was a 14-year-old lieutenant in the Science Division. But Felicity was too upset to even care about such things that she would consider trifles at the moment.

Felicity stood up and fluffed her petticoats. She glared at him. "I was, until my father slapped me heard on the face," she seethed through gritted teeth. She rubbed the right area of her cheek again.

Keswick simply shrugged. "Shame," he replied in a rather casual manner. "Seems there was a slight glitch in the Edward Merriman character when I was constructing this holoprogram."

Such tactlessness was enough to make Felicity glare at him again. Keswick looked pretty nonchalant about Felicity's condition, but his blue-gray eyes widened in fascinated admiration over how Felicity's red hair matched her seething temper.

"Anyway," continued Keswick, in a slightly tactless demeanor, "O'Brien told me to check on you. You know, to see how you're doing with the program."

"Well, I dearly hope that the next person to slap me at whim won't be my own dear mother!" said Felicity hotly.

"I should hope not," replied Keswick in a casual calm. "O'Brien requested that I lend you another one of these holo-emitters. He kind of suspected that you have two particular close friends in mind: one in animal form, and the other in human form, both of which you would consider to your utmost excitement…and…nostalgia…to take a stroll with." He promptly handed over the shield-like holo-emitter device to Felicity. Felicity approached him in a semi-cautious manner and cordially grasped it in the palm of her right hand. When Keswick was at a fair distance from Felicity, he performed a rather over-dramatic taikwondo bow. "Good day, Miss Merriman," he said finally.

Keswick promptly quitted the holodeck without another word, leaving Felicity very much upset, irate, and bewildered at the same time. As she gazed at the two holo-emitter devices, a thought hit her pretty head, as she slowly looked up and smiled in a rather crafty and mischievous manner.

* * *

A/N: After at least two other chapters, and if the opportunity permits, I plan to put this Star Trek/Felicity fanfic to a temporal moratorium so that I can work on another Lissie/Ben short story. (This notice may be subjected to whimsical change…) I didn't particularly feel comfortable with leaving my readers anxious as to when Lissie and Ben will reconcile with each other, so I might just finish up two chapters that cover those specific areas, and halt on the story temporarily to work on another Lissie/Ben fic. (Again, this notice may be subjected to whimsical change…)

NOTE: The notice may consider being removed if the author feels that he should just concentrate on finishing this Star Trek/Felicity fanfic, right to the very end.


	32. Chapter 32

_**Star Trek: The Next Generation – Souvenirs**_

**Written By:**_** Commander Cody CC-2224**_

CHAPTER 32

Same day, 1705 hours

A seemingly unremitting calm settled across the corridors of Deck 10 on the early evening of that same day. Suddenly the faint rhythmic sounds of a horse's hoof-beats could be heard. On the starboard corridor side of Deck 10, a copper-colored steed cantered by, much to the dismay of some of the crew personnel passing by.

It was Penny the mare. Or rather, a tangible holographic projection of Penny. And riding the steed were Felicity and a holographic character of her Grandfather. Because her Grandfather was recently deceased back roughly around 1775 to 1776, Felicity decided to take advantage of the opportunity to spend time with the relative whom she had so much fondness for.

The holographic Penny character cantered across the level deck. As she was too big to fit into the turbolift, the entire Deck 10 was her limitation.

After experiencing the thrill of riding her beloved horse around the Deck 10 corridors, Felicity took Penny to a trot across the corridors and across the hallways until she arrived to Ten-Forward, where she was met with dismayed gasps and cheers from the Starfleet personnel and civilians. She trotted the horse to where Elizabeth, Nan, and William were seated near a square table at the far right hand corner of the slightly lit room, where they were busily enjoying drinks.

Elizabeth was very much astonished, as well as the two little mites beside her. "Wow, Lissie!" she exclaimed ecstatically. "Is that Penny? However did you manage to get her?"

"Lissie! Gentlewomen do not sit astride a horse!" piped up Nan in childish consternation.

"Says who?" retorted Felicity mischievously, as she proceed to get down the horse.

"Says Mother," replied Nan with childlike seriousness.

"Well, Mother isn't here," said Felicity in a rather haughty manner. "Not unless I bring a…what was it called…a "virtual" image of Mother."

"'Virtual' image?' inquired William.

"Your sister's right, Felicity," said the Grandfather character, as if he was able to recognize the members of the group.

In a few seconds Capt. Picard arrived at the scene in a rather prompt manner.

"That _is_ a mighty fine horse," he remarked a little genially. "I've been riding horses since I was about your age."

"Really?" asked Felicity, in wide-eyed, smiley fascination.

One crewman began spouting off complaints about the horse. "That horse stinks!" he shouted.

Picard sort of nodded in agreement, both to Felicity's remark, and to the crewman's remark as well. "I'm concerned that this…horse…of yours is distracting the ship's personnel," he said, his demeanor gradually changing into a rather serious one.

Felicity was very much downtrodden at this remark. Lovingly she stroked Penny's flowing mane and greeted her an affectionate goodbye. "Goodbye, Penny," she said sadly. Then she gently detached the holo-emitter from Penny's left side and the holographic image of Penny dematerialized like an ethereal phantom.

The Grandfather character was nearly out of his wits. "How…how's that possible?" he asked, goggling.

"I don't know," said Felicity.

"You at least have your Grandfather," said Elizabeth a little consolingly.

* * *

Later on during the evening, Felicity and the Grandfather character took a stroll with each other on the port side of the Deck 10 corridor, going to the aft direction. The conversation with each other was a very sentimental one.

"Grandfather," she said, her inflection descending with a demeanor of demure seriousness. "You don't realize how much I missed you so."

"That is…quite nice to hear, Felicity," he said a little jovially in his fairly booming voice. "I missed you, too, my dear girl."

Felicity nodded in assent. "You see," she continued. "You died not a year ago." She gulped involuntarily. "But seeing a living memory of you…makes my heart excited…and at the same time…long for the real you."

"What 'real you'"? sputtered Grandfather, goggling. "I'm as real as you can plainly see. You act as though you haven't seen me in quite a long time."

"Because I haven't…" faltered Felicity sadly.

The pleasant, sentiment-filled chat kept continuing for a few minutes until she noticed something strange blinking on and off on the holo-emitter device. Peering closer, she noticed that the device itself blinked two red words in all-caps: WARNING: LOW BATTERY.

The holographic image of Grandfather didn't seem to understand his current predicament. Felicity was told by O'Brien that whenever something like that happened the holo-emitter device had less than a minute to keep generating the holographic image before it died entirely, at least from her point of view. With that in mind she immediately she gave him a big hug.

"I love you, Grandfather," she whispered sadly, embracing her relation close to her. "I shall always miss you. Always."

Tenderly she detached the device from Grandfather's left arm, and the holographic image of Grandfather dematerialized in the same manner as Penny did; in its typical ethereal form. Felicity stood in the middle of the hallway, alone, holding both devices in the palm of her right hand. She felt very sad inside, as if for one moment she thought that Grandfather had come back to her alive, and the next moment, that Grandfather died again, never to return.

* * *

This chapter was kind of delayed in coming because the Internet was down. The next upcoming chapter will put you in a mite of suspense: Will Felicity be eventually reconciled with Ben? Wait for the chapter and read through to find out.

Author's Note to Readers: I was submitting this chapter from the library computer, so that pretty much leaves little to no time to review the niceties and formats of this chapter. The reason being is that the Internet connection at my home computer, for some unknown reason, is down. So when the Internet at my home comes back on, I might be able to send Chapter 33 to the web.

OOPS. An idea of a Benjamin Davidson fanfic just popped into my mind and I intend to work on it, so I'll stop here for now. Don't worry...Lissie and Ben get reconciled with each other. But Chapter 33 won't be done well if I'm potentially distracted on that fanfic. Don't think I'm being inconsiderate. Please.


	33. Chapter 33

_**Star Trek: The Next Generation – Souvenirs**_

**Written By:**_** Commander Cody CC-2224**_

Author's Notes:

Another chapter of Lissie and Ben! We now come to the part where Lissie and Ben make amends with each other.

(Be sure to read the rest of the A/Ns after you read this entire chapter in order to know what influenced the author to formulate Chapter 33.)

* * *

CHAPTER 33

Felicity forlornly headed back to the Guest Quarters. Sighing almost exhaustively to herself, she sat herself abruptly on the main sofa and gazed at the devices nestled in the palm of her hand. A she did, a flashback swam in her mind like a reflection in pond water about what Mother said about death being the end of everything.

_The carriage kept jolting on and on after Grandfather's funeral service, as if its itinerancy was endless. Felicity stared bleakly at the dying season, mournful in her heart about the death of her beloved Grandfather. Mother, Nan, and William all shared the same sentiment that Felicity had within her heart. Nan seemed to be the only one to break the deathly silence._

_"Is Grandfather gone forever?" she asked innocently._

_"No, Nan," replied Mrs. Merriman. "As long as you remember him in your heart, he won't truly be gone from you."_

_"But he __is__ gone," said Felicity in a rather dejected manner. "He's dead. And isn't death the end of everything?"_

_"No, little Lissie," said Mrs. Merriman. "No change, no loss, no separation, not even death can end love. Love lasts forever."_

The last fifteen words in the flashback reverberated in Felicity's mind like an echo. As Felicity clasped both devices in her hand, she felt as if her heart would break in to a million pieces. She bent her head dejectedly, and wept silently as if she had never wept before. Her whole body shook with nerve-wracking sobs and hot tears streamed down her cheeks as she clutched to the devices as if they were mementos of everything that reminded her of other family members and friends who were gone, both in space as well as in time. Perhaps, it seemed, that only time would heal the woes of her heart.

Almost after a minute later she heard the door chime ring. "Come," said Felicity through her tears, expecting whoever was ringing to be Elizabeth, Nan, or William.

On the contrary. The only person who entered the room was Ben. He had come back to reconcile with his Lissie. But whether Felicity would reconcile with him remained to be seen.

Felicity slowly looked, her sparkling green eyes brimming with tears that nearly reflected the entire room around her under the bathing fluorescent light. Immediately she became nearly taken out of her wits and dismayed at the sight of Ben. Then all of a sudden she contorted her face into a glare.

"Go away, Ben!" she said forcefully while sniffling. "You're not welcome here!"

Ben reacted with an open mouth, as if in dismay, then faced her with a hint of sarcasm. "Oh, Lissie. Surely you don't mean that."

"I do, Benjamin Davidson! If you don't go, I will personally…"

"Do what?" Ben interrupted. "Fire a gun at me? Stab me with a knife? Beat me until I'm half-dead?" He stopped, as he watched Felicity suppurate continuously. "I know you too well, Lissie. You love me too much."

"I wouldn't dream of doing such dreadful things to you," replied Felicity forcefully in the midst of her tears and sobs. "But shame on you, Ben!"

Ben took another step toward Felicity and planted himself firmly on his spot. "All right. What's the shame for?"

Felicity faced Ben, her teary eyes fixed across his face, while having her head partially bowed. "For putting your own wishes ahead of ours! We want to stay in this century while you seek your sense of purpose in fighting a war that is long past now!" She sniffled tearfully. "Go, then, back to your timeline!" she said forcefully through her sobs. "Fight for the independence of the Colonies and get yourself killed while you make your mark in history. You only care about yourself!"

Ben shrugged rather tactlessly. "If that's what you want to think, fine with me." He turned his back rudely on Felicity, and she dropped her head abruptly and continued sobbing. Suddenly Ben started finding himself unable to make himself leave the guest quarters, or even ear to see Felicity crying. He sat down gently on the bed beside her right side. He took a glance at the holo-emitter devices that Felicity was holding in the palm of her right hand.

"What's that you're holding?" he asked, trying not to sound too rude now.

"My persuasion to back with you," replied Felicity, as she sniffled instinctively.

Ben peered closely at the devices with an air of skepticism. "That seems to be two of those devices that projects animate images," he remarked curiously. "What were you doing with them, Lissie? Did you use it to project live images of your mother and father? Polly? Your grandfather?"

"Aye," replied Felicity tearfully. "And Penny as well."

"I see," replied Ben in an understanding tone of voice. He was almost carried away.

"Looking at the images make me miss them so much that I'm almost persuaded to go back," said Felicity in the midst of her sobs. She looked at Ben with her face tear-streaked as she inhaled through her nose and gulped. "Does that…satisfy you?"

Ben was silent, as if he was hesitant to answer the type of question he probably had been long waiting for. His hotheaded mind urged him to answer it blatantly, but his conscience told him to be a little more tactful with the girl he had feelings for. Out of sympathy he ambled to the dresser, took three tissues of a Kleenex cardboard box, and came back to where Felicity was seated on the sofa, handing them to her as affectionately as he could. Instinctively taking one of them, she used it to wipe her tear-streaked eyes and face and blow her nose. Ben couldn't help feeling touched by that poignant scene.

"Th-thank you," said Felicity gratefully, in a rather nasal manner. She heaved a sigh. "You're right, Ben," she said, sniffling again. "We don't belong in this time period.

Ben was taken aback a little. "Whoa," he said wide-eyed. "Since when did nostalgia take over your entire self, little Lissie?"

"Since I saw Mother and father and baby Polly," replied Felicity. "And Penny as well."

Ben sighed heavily. Felicity continued rambling on her admissions as she wiped her tear-streaked eyes.

"I have to admit, I've been selfish, too, when I suggested…that we stay in this time period," she said. "Nan misses Mother and father; she asked me when we will get to see them again." She sniffled again. "I'll bet Elizabeth misses her mother and father, too. Mayhap she misses her sister, too."

Ben looked at Felicity. "If Elizabeth, as you say, misses her sister, is that because she wants to tease her?"

Felicity shook her head. "Nay," she replied.

"How strange," quipped Ben. "From the looks of it her older sister seems quite overbearing with her."

"True," said Felicity, "But Elizabeth loves her sister, just the way I love Nan."

Ben gave Felicity a rather curious look mixed with a dab of understanding. Then he made up his mind on another subject. "Um, Lissie?" he asked.

Felicity looked up at Ben with her lightly tear-streaked face. "Hmm?" she murmured softly.

Ben cleared his throat and gulped a bit. "I've been thinking,…that perhaps I should…you know…give up my personal ambitions for a while and stay with you, your siblings, and your best friend, regardless of whether you go back to your timeline or stay in this timeline."

Slowly Felicity's face glowed, as if her prayer for Ben had been answered. "Why, Ben," she began tenderly, "I dare say…that…is most kind… and thoughtful of you." She gazed at him in sweet admiration. "You've finally come back to your senses."

"…In a manner of speaking, aye," said Ben. "I'm sorry for all the trouble I've caused, Lissie."

"And I'm sorry that I said that all boys are jerks," said Felicity in a sincerely apologetic manner."

Ben felt a little hurt by that statement, but waved it off for Felicity's sake. "That's…rather understandable. After all, your Grandfather once said that words that are spoken in the heat of anger are never from the heart."

Felicity felt a tad shocked as she set her eyes on Ben. "Pray, how did you know that?" she queried. "I certainly don't recall you being present when Grandfather was telling me this."

Ben smiled teasingly, touching Felicity's pretty head with his right hand index finger. "Your memories. The Chief Engineer La Forge allowed me to access your memories in that little device I have in my hand." He showed Felicity the tricorder he was carrying with him in the pocket of his waistcoat.

"My memories," asked a mortified Felicity, gazing curiously at the tricorder. She faced Ben again. "Oh, why, you sneaky little rascal," she said disapprovingly while involuntarily chuckling to herself.

In the meantime Ben was staring at the broken pieces of the personal computer lying on the desk. His brown eyes widened. He shook his head a little and forced a thin smile before setting his eyes back on Felicity.

"How did that thing on the desk get broken?" he asked.

"I…um…" replied Felicity in a hesitant manner. She gulped before speaking any further. "I broke it. In anger. Elizabeth picked up the pieces and put them on the desk."

Ben exhaled, trying to keep his calm. "Aye," he said, looking pretty laid-back. "Definitely my Lissie."

Felicity took another tissue beside her right side and dried her face, blew her nose, and regained her composure.

"Oh, Ben," she murmured softly. "You just never realized how utterly mad I was at you for hurting my feelings and threatening to leave us entirely."

"Well," replied Ben, "I believe that I've come to my senses once and for all, regarding staying with you all on board this flying ship."

"Flying ship," chuckled Felicity, as if the very term was unorthodox to her 18th century mindset. She pressed Ben's left hand affectionately. "That…that _is_ wonderful, Ben. You'll be the man of the family now."

Ben was taken aback. "Lissie!" he exclaimed. "Don't tell me you're going to start fantasizing about me being the man of the house!"

Felicity looked at Ben earnestly. "Because of Father and Mother's unfortunate absence, you'll have to do for the time being," she said seriously. "As will I, too, since almost everyone goads me to be the strong one."

Ben shrugged, while chuckling over the latter statement that Felicity made. "I suppose…" he said, his voice trailing off.

A thought hit Felicity, which concerned what Elizabeth told her sometime a few hours ago about Ben's behavior.

"Ben?" asked Felicity. Ben turned to face her again, standing by for her next query for a favor.

"When you told me about leaving to go back to our time, I think I remember Elizabeth telling me a few minutes ago that you were angry about something else. I'm desperate to know; what is it you're angry about?"

Ben was rather hesitant to answer. But he had opened up his heart to Felicity several months ago; why couldn't he do the same now?

"Resentment," Ben answered a little stiffly.

Felicity recoiled mentally. "Resentment about what?" she asked. "What _are_ you so resentful about? That you weren't able to join Washington's army? Are you thinking that my family mistreated you?"

Ben shook his head like a dog shaking off fleas. "Nay, Lissie," he answered emphatically before he softened his a bit. "On the contrary. Your family treated me very kindly, and that…is something I should never forget in my entire life." He paused for a moment. "Nay…I was angry about something else."

"What?" asked Felicity, her inflection down.

Ben gulped before he answered. "It was about favoritism," he said slowly and firmly.

Felicity became shocked about what Ben said, her mouth wide open. "Ben!" she exclaimed. "Are you suggesting that my father, my mother, my brother, my sisters, and my grandfather loved you less than they loved me?"

"That's kind of the point; aye," replied Ben hastily and emphatically. He glanced at the tricorder he was holding in the palm of his right hand. "When I was looking through your memories, I felt very much tormented by the way your Grandfather viewed me. The part that pained me most was the one that took place after I came back to the King's Creek plantation house." He paused for a moment before resuming his mild screed. "He said something to the point that I should have been in jail for breaking your father's contract. He called me obstinate, in a manner that seemed to hint his despise for me, warning about me to your father through his comments that I watched the militia marching too much." He paused again. "Fortunately your father was understanding enough…your mother was, I think, understanding as your father, too…But your younger sister said something to the point of hating me for causing so much trouble."

Felicity's face held a demeanor of earnest seriousness. "Are you saying that my Grandfather's and my younger sister's lack of pity was what appalled you?" she asked.

"I think so," replied Ben. "But 'tis not only that, Lissie. When I peered through your memories, the way you were treated by your family members and friends was what brought jealous feelings into my mind. And the thought that you were going to live a sheltered life while the soldiers are forced to shiver in the cold weather and tirelessly battling the elements almost made me wish I were a girl, so I wouldn't have to undergo these things as much as most of our soldiers would have to. And also the thought that your family and friends would be more understanding with you than with me, simply because you're a girl, was, I think, something I couldn't bear to think about."

There was a moment of profound silence before Ben resumed what seemed to be his confession to Felicity.

"But that was the way I perceived things when I looked over your memories," Ben continued. "Before I looked through those memories I seemed to never give a thought about those things. But after that…" He paused a little out of hesitancy. "…Those things periodically entered my mind."

Felicity took his left hand and pressed affectionately before she began to speak her piece in reply.

"Ben," she said softly as she gulped a bit. "I think…that the reason why you felt resentment in the way I was affectionately treated by my family and friends was because…well, I hate to put it this way…you're a boy. But in our time, as a boy, you have more freedom than a girl does. You should remember that. Don't you remember me saying to you that 'tis so bothersome to be a girl and that you're lucky to be a boy?

Ben looked at Felicity and forced a rather wry smile, chuckling lightly. "I think you did, at one point," he said.

"You even complained about sleeping in the stable while I got to sleep in a bedchamber," mentioned Felicity. She heaved a wistful sigh. "Ben," she said. "You'll have to realize…that since I was little, I felt the very same way you were feeling since you were little, too. I wanted to sleep in the stables, just like you did?"

"Well, why didn't you?" retorted Ben quietly. "You loved horses, didn't you?"

"Aye," replied Felicity. "But…Father and Mother wouldn't allow me to do so…"

"Hmm…" said Ben rather skeptically.

"But that's not all," continued Felicity. "Who likes the idea…of having one's future…being the stifling life of a fine gentlewoman…who serves tea, smiles, and keeps her mouth shut like a proper young lady? Certainly not me. If you were a girl, you'd understand."

Certainly there was more to it than that concerning the life of a prim and proper gentlewoman, but being eleven years old, this was pretty much all that Felicity could tell him.

"Oh, I would, would I," said Ben, trying to keep his resentful demeanor in check. "I seem to tender the idea of volunteering to join Washington's army,…but the idea of being drafted…to suffer unimaginable horrors in the fight for freedom…get whipped for some minor infraction in the army…at least you get to have your own body intact…not being able to listen to an affectionate word now and then…"

Felicity sighed. "I'm sorry you feel that way, Ben," she said a tad sympathetically. "'Tis not like you to say such things. But unlike most girls, you're free to roam around and be…independent. Girls on the other hand…"

"…Don't have much choice in the matter?" asked Ben.

Felicity nodded. "Aye," she replied seriously. "In our time, you, as a boy, can be anything you want, and can do whatever you want, and no one will think the less of you. With a girl…oh, Ben, if you could only realize the pitiful situation of most of them, 'tis not something to be looking forward to. The fact that most girls who dare to even think and do for themselves are frowned upon and shunned…is very unpleasant to stand. 'Tis something you have to realize, Ben," she said. "You must never forget that."

"Then you imply that my thoughts were unjustified," concurred Ben, as he sort of suspected that Felicity wanted him to count his blessings. There was a brief moment of meditative silence before a thought suddenly hit upon him in semi-relation to the matter at hand. "What if I were to tell you that the whole thing was a test?" he asked rhetorically.

Felicity looked up at Ben confused. "A test?" she asked in a rather flustered manner.

"A test…of your determination to have me stay with you and the rest of your siblings and friends."

Felicity felt a tad cross but a little more anguished at the same time. "Oh, Ben," she said. "If you were taking pleasure at seeing us anguished over our loss for you, I should smack you in the face this very instant."

"Only if you do it lightly," said Ben, chuckling lightly. "The first time you did it 'twas awfully hard." Felicity had to laugh a bit as well.

Then Ben had a question that he desperately thought it needed answering. "Lissie, let me ask you a question," he said. Felicity faced Ben again. "Do you think…that sometimes a brash, hotheaded young lad…like me…needs a sweetheart to show him back to what's right and what really matters? When I reminisce on the time you tried to shame me when I was on the run from my apprenticeship with your father, I tend…to see that same…pattern. I take it that mayhap there is some kind of possibility that a boy like me needs some kind of brash, hotheaded Patriot girl who can see…both side of the issue, rather than on one side?" From hearing it once it would seem a tad perplexing, but Ben felt unable to know how else to phrase his statement, but the way he kept his inflection implied that his statement was more of a rhetorical question than a statement in itself.

And on account of this Felicity was confused as a result. "Whatever do you mean, Ben?" she asked with a puzzled look and tone of voice.

Ben took a bit of time to give his statement another thought. "You cherish even those who are on different sides: your Grandfather, your friend Elizabeth Cole,…"

"Kindness extends even to those on the opposite political side, Ben," said Felicity.

"Now that's what I mean by seeing both sides of the issue," said Ben. "You can love people despite their differences. This…I'm afraid, is something I'm having a bit of difficulty with right now."

"Then start learning to do it with Elizabeth," said Felicity.

Ben chuckled a bit. "I just did," he replied, "When she did her part in convincing me to come back to my senses."

"Then you won't feel so alone in your life," said Felicity. "You were always saying how alone you were during the first day of your apprenticeship with Father."

"Aye, that be true," remarked Ben. "You realize that I lost my sister when I was ten years old, just as you lost Grandfather when you were the same age as I was." Ben's beloved sister Hannah Davidson passed away when she was six years old, and even after two years, the memories that flooded the depths of his mind made him feel kind of sad in his heart than before.

Felicity nodded in assent. "You've told me that before," she said softly, "When we first met during the first day of your apprenticeship."

Ben agreed. "We each share a similar coincidental experience regarding the loss of loved ones," he remarked. "And friends."

Felicity started reminiscing about the people, places, and things she knew back in Williamsburg; but above all, the people. "Speaking of friends,…" she began, her voice trailing off.

"Hmm?" asked Ben, facing Felicity.

"You know, when I come to think of it, I do really miss Father and Mother," said Felicity in a rather wistful manner. "And little Polly. And Penny. And listening to the stout, gossipy Mrs. Fitchett when I sometimes visit Father's store…"

"And the plantation at King's Creek?" put in Ben.

Felicity nodded. "That, too," she replied.

"How about your regular tea lessons at Miss Manderly's?"

"Mm-hmm," said Felicity, forming a wistful smile in her face.

Ben was quiet for a moment. "I'm finding myself so touched," he admitted.

"But at least I have you," said Felicity, feeling grateful for Ben's presence now. "And Nan. And William. And my best friend Elizabeth Cole."

"That's awful nice to hear," said Ben in a slightly casual manner.

There was silence again after what would have been perceived as a seemingly intimate conversation. Felicity felt a sudden passionate to cling to Ben.

"Hold me," she begged.

Felicity threw her arms around Ben and embraced him as she had never embraced him before, and Ben put his arms around her in a manly, father-like manner. This physical suggestion of love was enough to bring tears to Felicity's eyes once again. As Felicity sobbed gently and cried her tears, Ben felt a remarkable, radiant warmth emanating from her body. He felt his heart beating steadily and fervently, as if he was totally in love with her.

"Whoa, Lissie," he uttered softly. "Your body is remarkable warm."

"Really?" murmured Felicity, as she giggled suggestively.

Ben continued to rock Felicity gently. Slowly and affectionately he took off her mobcap and soothingly stroked her reddish-auburn hair, which glistened healthily in the bathing fluorescent light. He felt himself to be near tears, as his eyes kind of watered slightly; an indication of the sincere, heartfelt remorse he felt about all the unnecessary trouble he caused Felicity. The warmth of Felicity's body made him feel very relieved. He slowly slid his hands on her smooth and supple arms until he reached her hands. Then he fervently planted an affectionate kiss on each of Felicity's smooth, soft, downy cheeks, which felt all the more pleasurable to the touch of his lips. Such a kiss seemed to last forever.

Face-to-face with each other, Ben slowly slid his right hand index finger on Felicity's left cheek and set his gaze deep into Felicity's beautiful, sparkling emerald-green eyes."

"You just don't know how beautiful you are, Felicity Merriman," he remarked in a heartfelt manner.

Felicity smiled radiantly at him as she exuded all the childlike feminine beauty of her childhood appearance she ever could.

"Do you not remember me telling you at one time that if I loved someone would never let that person go, and if I did I would feel wholly miserable?" she asked, as she put forth her best smile.

Ben looked at her. "You said that?"

"Aye," replied Felicity gently.

* * *

As Felicity and Ben were steeped in the midst of their mild lovemaking affair, specifically very close to the part where they were about to kiss each other, the door chime rang. Immediately they got startled.

"Um…come," said Felicity called hesitantly. She struggled to straighten herself, as did Ben.

The sliding doors opened in entered Elizabeth, Nan, and William.

"Still in love?" asked Elizabeth sweetly.

Felicity nodded, grinning impishly. "Aye," she replied a little briskly.

Elizabeth beamed at them before she turned to little Nan and William.

"Children," she said rather sweetly and calmly, "I want you all to give Ben a great big hug. Let him know you appreciate him, because all of us, including Lissie, were very close to losing him, possibly forever."

Both Nan and William solemnly approached Ben and enfolded around him. Ben picked up William, much to his joy. Nan clung onto Ben's skirts and made her childlike apology to him for what she said about him several months ago.

"Ben, I'm sorry I said I hated you," she said.

"I'm past it all, Nan," said Ben sincerely. He managed to pick up Nan with his right arm.

Both Felicity and Elizabeth hugged each other in celebration of Ben's return to his senses.

* * *

Both Ben and Felicity were arm-in-arm, enjoying a peaceful moment with each other in the holodeck setting of Miller's Pond in Williamsburg. The day was beautiful and sunny, and the calm, transparent waters sparkled like a thousand diamonds in the natural bathing sunlight. Felicity's vibrant red hair and green eyes glistened in the sunlight as well, and so did Ben's chocolate-brown hair and brown eyes.

Meanwhile, Elizabeth took it upon herself to look after Nan and William while her best friend was in the midst of reestablishing the bonds of seemingly intimate friendship with Ben. Elizabeth kept herself in fun business as baby-sitter by running around the living area, holding a little handkerchief up high, with the little mites competing with each other to catch it. It was a pretty sentimental sight to behold.

* * *

A/N (1): I apologize that it took quite a long time to formulate this Lissie/Ben "masterpiece" Chapter. (By the looks of it, Chapter 12 was my first Lissie/Ben "masterpiece" Chapter). The reason why it took a bit longer than was expected was because my 18-year-old mind was busy wrestling with the ideas of the resentment of girls living relatively sheltered lives while boys had to do all the fighting, and battling and enduring the harsh elements. Just as an aside, Ben is, I have to admit, a bit of me (me, as in the author of this Star Trek/Felicity fanfic). I know it's kind of weird, but then again, I'm just not the brash, hotheaded boy that Ben is, or even much of a fighting man.

The ultimate question of whether Ben was justified to complain about his seemingly harsh predicament if he were in the 18th century was fortunately answered by "pansyphoenix" when I brought up a sample of Chapter 33 to an email message concerning Ben's complaint. I thought I should post this in the Author's Notes because it's what influenced the concerning that issue.

"I believe she wouldn't be upset by that, but understanding. She loves him, she wants to help him, and make him see that she is on his side. She would say things like, 'Look, you are a boy-you have choices in life, even as an apprentice. Even before we girls are old enough to know our ups from our downs, we are told we are going to be housewives and spend most of our grown up life pregnant! Since spinsters and women who think and do for themselves are frowned upon and shunned, we are told that being a wife and mother is all we have a right to expect.' Felicity would try to make him see that the world wants her fate to be decided before she is even fifteen. A boy can be anything he wants. He can drink, gamble, visit the bordellos without any true consequences, but if a woman tries to have lovers, she is dubbed a whore and outcast. Yet a man can do all that and no one think less of him! She would try to make him see that despite all that society burdens a girl with, no one can force her to give her heart to one she does not love. Felicity's main choice is to love Ben, and she will do so with all her heart and soul if he will let her."

So there you have it.

Also, I had to construct this chapter in a manner where the transition from one topic of discussion to another is as smooth as it can ever be, rather than abrupt.

A/N (2): This chapter was influenced by ideas from the _Felicity: An American Girl Adventure_ movie, as well as from one of the Felicity series books titled _Felicity Saves the Day_. I've been reading and poring over that book, and I can sort of suspect that boys who read this book will feel a tad resentful of the idea of girls being better than they are (in terms of morals and common sense, that is…). So throughout the rest of the Lissie/Ben conflict I was wrestling with the ideas of Ben feeling resentful over Felicity shaming him into abandoning his seemingly foolish idea of running off to join the Patriot army, and this conflict of interest is taken to a new level, where Ben, as implied in this fanfic, gets pretty resolute about running off again, which results in losing his friendship (and newfound love) with Felicity, as well as the rest of her remaining siblings and friends on board the _Enterprise_. (Again, Ben is pretty much supposed to be me here, struggling to answer questions about resentful thoughts coming into his mind.) As a result of Felicity's hotheadedness, she ends up throwing away her friendship (and love) with Ben, possibly forever.

But her best friend Elizabeth, being the practical and serene one, decides to consult her Chaplain friend (who might have some remedy for Ben's impulsiveness), and size up the situation carefully. Elizabeth first tries to get to the bottom of Ben's fears, trying to know what really eats at him, and encourages him to reconcile with Felicity. So sweet-tempered Elizabeth sort of succeeds where hotheaded Felicity almost fails.

Had it not been for Elizabeth, both Lissie and Ben would have been completely and willfully separated from each other due to their acrimonious attitudes toward each other (bearing in mind that they're both hotheaded individuals, and have rather fiery tempers), and tension can creep into the group. Even if Felicity could be determined enough to take the lead in the group, the fact remains that the group will no doubt need an older male protector, someone they are very familiar and can trust. Without that kind of protector, the group could end up becoming weaker and their options for survival and staying together limited. (The psychological aspect of the minds of 18th century children was that family members and friends mattered to them the most, if I so recall, and familial love and loyalty is what is keeping Felicity and her siblings and friends together.) For said reasons it's rather crucial that Ben remains on board with the rest of his friends.

A/N (3): The part where Felicity says something about loving someone and never having the willingness to let him go was derived from one of the Felicity Series books titled _Meet Felicity_.


	34. Chapter 34

_**Star Trek: The Next Generation – Souvenirs**_

**Written By:**_** Commander Cody CC-2224**_

Author's Notes:

Well, it seems that I've nearly done with all my 12th grade schoolwork (actually, done, so you could say), and I have just finished completing this chapter. Before I start blabbing off facts relating to the story and chapter at hand, and start off the next round adventure for Felicity and friends, I would first like to give a big "Thank You" to my two advisors on Felicity the American Girl: "pansyphoenix" and "MackenzieW". They provided me the much-needed advice on various aspects of Felicity, her family members, and friends (which I occasionally post in my additional Author's Notes at the end of each chapter).

You'll now be introduced to a new type of Corellian vessel: the _K'Mar_ (it is to be noted that a majority of Corellian vessels begin with the letter K and an apostrophe). The vessel is, as will be implied in this chapter, three times the size of a Galaxy Class starship, and possesses similar shape and form to the Acclamator-Class Republic Assault Ships in the _Star Wars_ universe,

The Corellian uniforms are a tad different, in theory because of the different vessel. The officers' uniforms are derived from the human-mouse uniforms from the photo shoots of Disney's "Cinderella Kids", except that they have a militaristic look to them. Also derived from "Cinderella Kids" are the slightly hairy grayish epaulettes that the Corellian officers wear on their shoulders.

So, without further adieu, my dear Felicity the American Girl readers, let's sit back and watch…um, sorry, I mean, _read_ the rest of the story about Felicity the American Girl in the world of Star Trek. (Actually, Felicity and friends will be featured in the next upcoming chapter.)

* * *

CHAPTER 34

_U.S.S. Enterprise (NCC-1701-D)_

Stardate 48976.3

Near the Boundaries of the Corellian Sector, Interior Region

April 15, 2370 A.D.

Day 5, 1034 hours

_Captain's log: Stardate 48976.3. The "Enterprise" has now headed to the outskirts of what appears to be the Corellian Sector, according to Lt. Cmdr. Data's stellar cartography analysis. Since the past 126 hours we are still traveling at Warp 2 in the hopes of picking up an alien vessel of the same origin that we have encountered since the past five days of our initial sighting. And as much as we're anxious to head back to Earth, the mystery of how, where, and when our guests from time arrived to this time period calls for our undivided attention, since Earth's history may in some way be affected by the bizarre anomaly we encountered._

The _U.S.S. Enterprise_ was still cruising at Warp Factor 2. On the Main Bridge, business kept going on as usual without incident. Lt. Keswick was at the NAV console, and a young man between his late 20s and early 30s by the name of Kevin Bates in yellow uniform was at the helm. It was usually Data who piloted the ship, but this time he was preoccupied with the station monitors scanning for origins of the alien shuttlecraft. Picard was in his captain's chair, and Worf was at the security console. Commander Riker, however, was absent on the bridge and in his quarters, waiting to be called should the pressing need arise.

Picard's meditative mood was interrupted constantly, however, by the incessant chatter among the Bridge personnel, namely Keswick and Bates. Keswick, for example was sort of rambling about how he ogled Elizabeth Cole in Ten-Forward not two days ago.

"…And then I was just staring at her for what seemed like hours; just hours on end," he said in a rather calm and scholarly tone of voice. "And I mean, literally. The blonde hair, the nail-strikingly beautiful blue eyes…, she was just so pretty to begin with; I just couldn't help taking my eyes off her…"

"Staring?" interrupted Bates. "Keswick, since when did you happen to be so damn interested with girls anyway, man? Let alone an innocent-looking eleven-year-old who hasn't even reached puberty yet?"

"I…er…I don't know," replied Keswick, a tad shyly. "It's in my nature, I guess." He shrugged. "For my type of species, that is."

Bates let out a teasing snort. "Gee, Kessie, if that's your freakin' nature, yours must be a rather weird one to begin with."

While the two men were chatting away, Worf remarked to himself rather gruffly about the Cole girl.

"The blonde human female is…soft," he remarked, letting out a gruff snort. "Too soft for my taste."

Picard couldn't help sniggering to himself over Worf's reaction to such feminine aspects. "Your implication is that is too much of an elfin child, and too…timid?" he asked rather scholarly.

"Yes, Captain," replied Worf curtly. "I find such qualities to very…pitiable. Klingons would never have room for such a creature as that…human female"

Bates suddenly turned his head around to face Worf in a clockwise direction. "No room?" he butted in. "Geez, man. No wonder why you Klingons are so grim about life. Nothing to cheer you up except the taste of blood?"

"That reminds me; Dr. Crusher was mentioning something about Lieutenant Corbin threatening to acquire a taste of their own blood if they did not cooperate with the MRI scanning machine."

Bates teasingly pointed his right hand index finger at Keswick. "Remind me to get a taste of that blood to, 'cause I've often wondered for myself the blood of a colonial child tastes like, especially the girls," he said in a joking manner. "Does it have a rather different flavor to it?"

Picard head that, and on his ship he couldn't tolerate a joke he considered off-colored to his tastes. "Lieutenant, that will do," he said almost sternly.

"Sorry Cap'n," replied Bates in an apologetic manner, gesticulating his right hand and slapping it on the right side of the helm console. He immediately turned to Keswick.

"So, Keswick," he continued. "Have you ever managed to come across the other girl her age? I mean the redhead."

Keswick turned his head to face him in a rather skeptical manner. "How do you know about her?" he asked coolly.

"I checked the Temporal Passenger Manifest on the LCARS," replied Bates. "They've got loads of info listed into their own personal profiles. Info such as their age, the color of their eyes and hair, their weight, their height, their blood type, physiology, mental health,…all that cool stuff."

"It's…amazing how the Doctor can list all that…stuff," said Keswick in his unperturbed manner.

"Yes it is," quipped Bates. "Now back to the billion-bars-of-latinum question, Kessie-boy."

"I see what you mean," said Keswick. "It so happened that I did encounter the redheaded human female in Holodeck 2 while she was running one of my holoprograms on historic Williamsburg. I found her in a rather…sorry state, bringing up a complaint to me about a certain glitch she ran into during her virtual reality tour of the town."

"Is it the Williamsburg of Pennsylvania, or Virginia?" asked Bates.

"Virginia," answered Keswick a little curtly.

Bates slapped his right hand on the helm console. "Man!" he exclaimed almost excitedly. "You know what? Remind me to visit that place someday, first thing when get to get off this ship when we reach Earth." He sighed luxuriously, as he reclined in his chair in a relaxed mood. "That would be a hell of a fun time." He faced Keswick again. "You can visit that place with me, if you want, man. You know, they've got loads of pretties walking two and fro. After all, it is quite a historic place for…lovers, you know."

"I suppose," replied Keswick almost dreamily, his voice trailing off a bit. "I hope I get to meet a girl just like the Cole girl I encountered at the Ten-Forward lounge."

"Yeah; well I…" Keswick was interrupted by a fairly audible beeping sound emanating from his console. "Beep-beep-beep-beep! Beep-beep-beep-beep!"

"Captain, I am picking up a signal originating from an unknown vessel," Bates announced quite loudly. "It's pretty huge to begin with."

Picard was alerted a bit. "That is the twelfth time you've been notifying me that, Mr. Bates," he said.

"Yes, sir," replied Bates. "But the signal just keeps getting bigger…and bigger.

Picard immediately got up from the captain's chair and peered skeptically over the helm console display, his eyes narrowing by a tad. "Really?" he asked a little curtly.

The beeping sounds from the helm console kept coming and coming. Picard slowly straightened himself as he locked his piercing gaze onto the view-screen, his mind whirring on what kind of a decision to make regarding the matter of the mysterious signal. He came upon one decision, though he was rather reluctant to make it. Finally, he decided that the time was now.

"Mr. Bates, drop out of warp," he ordered decisively, despite his reluctance.

"Aye, Cap'n," replied Bates. He started tapping away at a few touch-buttons.

The _Enterprise_ immediately dropped out of warp. On the Bridge, the sight the personnel were now witnessing on the view-screen was quite a sight to behold. An imposing vessel gave a very imposing and sleek appearance. From the top view the huge vessel could be seen in the shape of an isosceles triangle, with a straight line cut over the tip. On the aft area were three huge warp engines attached on its backside. And on the top was some kind of slanted tower. Beside the tower was a single turret house with three long prongs sticking out, with their tips in semi-arrow form. The dorsal and ventral areas of the vessel were symmetrically bent at a 30 degree angle. The vessel itself was nearly three times the size of a Galaxy-class starship.

Lt. Keswick had his eyes widened, but even with that type of mystified appearance, he wasn't really that mystified completely. Lt. Bates, on the other hand, was very bewildered at the incredible behemoth.

"Do you see what I see?" asked Bates in incredible shock.

"Affirmative, lieutenant," Picard replied coolly.

"That vessel is damn near huge," remarked Bates.

Picard acted as though he hadn't heard him as he turned to Data. "Mr. Data?" he asked the busy android.

Data, while near seated on the starboard side are of the wall-based analysis computers, turned his head to face Picard. "It appears to be another type of Corellian space vessel. The markings on the bow confirm that hypothesis, sir."

Next Picard turned to his security officer. "Tactical analysis, Mr. Worf," he ordered bluntly.

Worf briefly scanned the stats on the security console before looking up. "A total of 87 disruptor banks, both of which can be programmed to generate continuous or pulsed firing modes, 349 phased polaron torpedoes, primary, secondary, and tertiary shields."

"Phased polaron…" muttered Picard with mystified uncertainty. He turned to Worf again. "Phased polaron torpedoes were generally considered Dominion weaponry. I thought only the Dominion carried that type of arsenal. But how on earth…" Picard was now in stunned silence.

Alerted, Data turned his head to the captain and scholarly formulated his opinion. "It is theoretically possible that the Corellians might have diplomatic relations with the Dominion. If they did not, it is also possible they might have engaged in espionage to acquire such technical and methodical knowledge."

A slight vibrant shake could be felt on the Bridge. A dark-skinned Negro in yellow uniform, alerted, turned his head to Picard. "Captain, the vessel has a tractor beam locked on us," he replied rapidly in his Southern accent.

A series of beeps emitted from the security console, which made Worf perk his head up. "Captain," he said. "We are being hailed."

"On screen," ordered Picard.

Worf set to work on opening the channel and establishing communication with the alien vessel. The view-screen changed its view of the vessel to the view of a serious-looking Corellian officer. His slightly bald head was a little enlarged. He was dressed in a decorated, professional-looking uniform, with hairy, hazel-brown fabric epaulettes on his uniform shoulders. Everything about him said "sophisticated".

"_Enterprise_, we…are the Corellian Battle Cruiser _K'Mar_, he said in a rather curt and calm manner. "State your identity," he ordered.

Picard, surprised that the aliens were able to identify his starship, braced himself. "This is Captain Jean-Luc Picard of the Federation starship _Enterprise_."

The officer exhaled luxuriously. "Ah,…Captain," he began in an almost rasping tone of voice. "Tsk, tsk, tsk…is there a particular explanation as to why you immediately dropped out of warp the moment you detected our presence?"

"Your vessel emanated an unbelievably large signal, which we managed to detect. Piqued by our curiosity, we were inclined to drop out of warp in order to assess the identity of the vessel." He paused for a moment. "Are you the captain of this vessel?"

"No," replied the alien officer. "I am only the first officer."

Suddenly several beeps generated from tactical. "Captain, the vessel is powering up its weapons array!" informed Worf. "Recommend we raise shields."

The officer continued speaking. "Under threat of the destruction of your vessel we request your presence on board ours, including that of your first officer," he said with great curt. "Your refusal to comply with our demands within five minutes…would be unwise." The view-screen immediately changed back to the view of the alien vessel.

Picard immediately approached Worf. "Worf," he began. "I want all phasers prepped and set on stun, in case these…aliens…perform aggressive activities."

"Captain, it would not be prudent to have all phaser settings on…" began Worf, but Picard interrupted him.

"It is not prudent to make enemies of them during our first and close encounter," said Picard. "And at the same time we must be prepared for possible aggressive responses without provoking further hostilities." For Picard, this was the very reason why he wanted all phasers fixed on the "stun" setting.

Worf nodded curtly and stiffly. "Yes, Captain," he responded.

Without further adieu Picard proceeded to depart from the bridge as he made his way to the main turbolift. "Number One," he ordered. Riker immediately followed him.

"Mr. Data, you have the Bridge," said Riker.

* * *

On board the Corellian Battle Cruiser _K'Mar_...

The transporter room of the _K'Mar_ was located on the aft part of the cruiser. The interior of the room had a somewhat gothic look to it. The floor plan comprised of a room on an average of 22 feet in both length and width and about 20 feet in height. A dome-shaped roof with a curvature at a 30 degree angle loomed overhead the transporter pads, which were coated in a satin-white light, as was the dome-shaped roof. The rest of the ceiling, however, was flat-surfaced, with loads of ceiling-based fluorescent lights neatly lined across.

Near the transporter pads were four armed Corellian security personnel dressed in sophisticated-looking purple-gray uniforms and carrying rather powerful disruptor rifles the size of a Thompson SMG. At the back of the room was a transporter control panel, with two personnel manning it.

In a few seconds thick starry particles emanated directly on the squarish-looking transporter pads. The two Starfleet officers beamed directly on them without much mishap. Armed guards with a militaristic appearance rounded them up and herded them out of the transporter room.

Right in the bowels of the ship were a series of curvy corridors similar to those corridors on the _K'Tan_. The corridors were not without their routine of passers-by personnel. The surroundings of the vessel carried their typical violet hue, especially the slightly darkened carpet floor and wall panels with inscripted alien writing and satin white panel lines with their sleek rectangularized-strip emergency lights fixed in their niches in a tidy manner. At every corridor checkpoint could be seen two armed guards on each side, and an entranceway sealed off with a blast door that could only be opened with the use of security keycard.

After taking the lift, the guards finally escorted Picard and Riker past the main bridge and rang the buzz-sounding door chime of the captain's ready room.

"Come," a slightly raspy voice called from inside. The group immediately entered the ready room. The prime commander of the vessel, Captain Viss, looked slightly imposing as Picard himself. His head was slightly enlarged like the rest of the Corellian personnel, and his uniform had all sorts of weird-looking decorations about him, some of them looking like bottle-caps and fairly elegant pinned medals. The command strips were elegant as well, as well as the typically hairy-brown epaulettes that most of the personnel wore. His face had a type of semi-serious but dramatic demeanor.

"Ah, Captain," greeted Viss in a somewhat dreamy, raspy voice. "Face-to-face at last." He beckoned both Picard a Riker further into the room. "Come. Come in."

As the officers entered, Viss turned to the rest of the guards. "You may go," he said to them, as he waved them off with his hand gesticulation. With a rather militaristic bow, the guards departed the room.

The captain's ready room was a tad similar to a ready room of a Constitution Class starship, that is, in terms of looks. The entire ready room was completely windowless, and looked almost like an early 21st century Apple store, except the computerized environment had a little bit of a darker tone to it and bore a tincture of IBM. A fairly long, curvy table bedecked in violet hue, with a thick black outline, was situated at the middle part of right hand side of the room relative to the entranceway, and on the middle of the table surface was a personal computer made of two board-like plasma screens, which, when folded, looked very much like a two-layered sandwich. The captain's mechanically-looking chair, which looked very much like a cockpit seat of an early 21st century fighter jet, and lined with plushy violet leather, with a tinge of mahogany associated, was at the front part of the desk, and its front facing away from the desk front. When Viss immediately sat on it, he pressed a touch-button on the right hand side of the chair and followed by a mechanical whir it slowly and mechanically turned in a clockwise direction until Viss was facing his desk front.

Fishing out a remote control device from his automatic desk drawer, he aimed it directly at the floor region near his desk rear and hit a touch-button with his thumb. Immediately two trapdoor panels opened up and two fairly large weird-looking devices slowly emerged in a mechanical manner. After slowly popping out, the devices slowly formed into a chair, with similar plushy leather lining as the captain's ready room chair. Everything on both chairs said "comfortable", as they both were suitably ideal for the average American couch potato.

"Come. Come, sit down," ordered Viss graciously, as he beckoned both Picard and Riker to take their comfortable seats. Both officers immediately sat down, with Picard on the right-hand chair, and Riker on the left-hand chair, from the frame of reference of facing Capt. Viss.

"It is good," began Viss, "That by sheer coincidence both our ships have managed to meet face-to-face at a rather unexpected time…and place. Don't you think, Jean-Luc?"

"I would say," replied Picard. "We both had our intentions."

"Ah, yes. We did," replied Viss. He took a deep, luxurious breath before he resumed his talk. "You…were in search of an alien vessel similar to the one you captured, and we…were in search of an alien vessel that had our five luscious human child specimens."

"Consider it coincidence, by all means," Picard replied rather cautiously.

"That I shall."

Picard moved his seated body a little forward towards Viss. "Why did you stop us?" he asked rather bluntly.

"The question you should ask yourself, Jean-Luc, is 'Why did you drop out of warp the moment when you detected our presence using your long-range external sensors?'"

"Because we were curious," interrupted Riker. "We were only surveying your ship. We never had the intent of going on an offensive whenever there's a new life form to encounter. Doesn't your technology have the capability to monitor weapons activity on another vessel?"

"Of course it did," replied Viss a little vaguely.

"Then why did you engage a tractor beam on us and threaten to lock weapons fire on our ship?"

"We couldn't just let you get away," replied Viss in a rather tactless manner. "Just like you human space explorers, you, too, are intent on studying new life forms and new civilizations. This…is our means of accomplishing those ends that you seek."

"But those _means_ can get a tad extreme, Captain, don't you think?" retorted Riker in a blunt manner.

"I suppose I could concur with you on that matter, Officer," replied Viss. "But you can't be too careful." He mused for a brief minute. "Besides, that's not the only reason why you've been pulled over."

Picard narrowed his eyes a bit. "Is it about our guests from time."

"It's about our human specimens," said Viss, in an almost admonishingly correcting tone of voice. "Quite simply, you have them on board…and we want them back."

"Why?" asked Riker. "So you can perform more experiments on them? I think they've had quite enough of them as it is."

"Whether they've had quite enough of them as it is…is not relevant," said Viss in a rather tactless manner.

"They're not guinea pigs to be scanned, poked, and prodded at whim," retorted Riker.

"Yet that could be precisely what you've been doing to them," mentioned Viss.

Picard mused a bit. "He could be right," he remarked. "It is what we have been doing." He looked suspiciously at the captain. "What further experimentations did you have in mind when you brought this up?"

"Other experiments…concerning mental, physiological, and psychological reactions to certain stimuli," replied Viss.

"Are there also experimentations that involve the use of violence?" asked Riker.

"Only a little."

"Well, 'a little' can be too much, especially for the little people, Captain," retorted Riker.

"Officer, you and your captain have what's ours. Don't you think we have a right to…what's technically ours? Those…children from time…are our…guinea pigs…as you are so adept to put it."

"But we in the Federation also have a right…and a duty…to maintain our respect for human dignity," put in Picard. "Which means that we do not just simply hand over helpless youngsters to those who would shamelessly take advantage of them in an unethical manner."

"Are you implying that we are an unethical species, Captain?" asked Viss coolly.

"By your attitude to our guests, I would have to say you are," concurred Picard.

"You are forgetting one thing, however," said Viss. "Only two…of the human specimens are helpless youngsters. The three others…can be fairly dependent by themselves."

"Well we don't make such arbitrary distinctions," put in Riker.

"I would be inclined to make such "arbitrary distinctions" if I were you, Officer," retorted Viss calmly. "One of our specimens demonstrated a rather…rebellious nature when she and her goody-goody chums were initially on board the Corellian Science Vessel _K'Tan_."

Picard narrowed his eyes cautiously and stared intently at Capt. Viss. "What do you know about the _K'Tan_?" he asked warily.

* * *

Back on the Main Bridge of the _Enterprise_, nearly a third of the personnel were monitoring the stats of both Capt. Picard and Commander Riker. Those involved in the monitoring were Lt. Cmdr. Data, who was at the port station monitor, Bates, and Keswick.

"What in the crap-heeled sphincter of hell is taking them so long?" complained Bates while gesticulating his arms.

"I'm curious of that, too," put in Keswick in his unusually calm manner like that of a Vulcan. "However, since no one on board can give a fairly logical explanation, I am forced to come up with a fairly reasonable hypothesis, which may comprise of…temporal abduction – in which case both the captain and the first officer are temporary put on hold until further notice."

"Further notice on what?" retorted Bates. "That the captain was in violation of airspace regulations?"

"That might be a logical possibility," replied Keswick coolly. "The captain, after all, has ventured fairly deep into alien territory." He paused briefly. "But I feel that there might be some other reasons aside from just …a minor violation of Corellian airspace."

"Like what?" asked Bates.

Keswick looked him in the eye. "I do not know," he replied calmly. "And there is also another possibility that even if the information was available it would be restricted."

"Oh, very helpful," retorted Bates in a rather sarcastic manner.

"Lieutenant Keswick may be right," put in Data. "Another logical reason could be that the vessel's captain's requirement for Capt. Picard and Cmdr. Riker may have something to do with the five children from time."

Bates looked at him a tad skeptically. "O-kay…" he said slowly.

"The vessel that initially locked a tractor beam on the _Enterprise_ and threatened to engage weapons fire unless the captain complied to the demands of the vessel's captain would no doubt be on the hunt as well."

"Why?" asked Bates.

"The alien shuttlecraft that we managed to capture bears the same markings as that of the alien cruiser. Which could lead to a hypothetical conclusion that…"

"That what?"

"…That the alien ship locked on to a beacon signal and either followed them briefly or positioned itself in a manner where the _Enterprise_ could meet the vessel at close encounter."

Lt. Bates eyed gleefully on the captain's chair, which was vacant at present. "Can I sit in the captain's chair?" he asked Mr. Data.

"Technically, only the captain gets to sit in that chair."

"But there's nobody sitting on it."

"It would go against regulation to…"

"Hell with regulation," cut in Bates rashly. "I'm sitting there anyway until either the captain or the first officer gets back…if they ever." He got up from his post and seated himself rather luxuriously on the chair, crossing his legs and putting himself in a relaxing position, with his hands resting on his head. "What the hell's so wrong about having a little fun anyway? Thanks to that stupid alien tractor beam we're parked here for life."

"I do not think it would be for life," put in Keswick. "The Corellians will release the tractor beam if they see fit, and it is a decision which most likely they will not delay for a long time."

"Man, you take everything so damn seriously," Bates remarked to the calm lieutenant.

Data turned his head to face him. "You _will_ get out of the captain's chair if I ask you to."

"Yeah, yeah."

Shrugging his head, Data resumed back to his busy work.

* * *

Inside Captain Viss's ready room on board the _K'Mar_, the discussion continued throughout the rest of the morning.

"…You never did fully explain your reasons for powering up your weapons array," said Picard. "Why did you give the order for them to be powered up?"

"It is standard procedure,…Captain," replied Viss. "In the fringes of our space, we Corellians can just simply _never_ afford to take chances with…foreigners. Even if you weren't having any intention of provoking hostilities."

"But surely you could tell that we had no intention of provoking hostilities until you gave the order for engagement of your weapons array, which alerted my tactical officer to recommend that we raise shields on my ship," Picard pressed on.

Viss made a rather wry face. "Hmm…so even you humans act in the same 'tactical alert' manner as we do," he remarked. He mused a bit. "Yes…yes. But of course we couldn't run the risk of destroying your ship. And I'll bet you of all people are asking…why." He paused. "The answer…lies in a foreign shuttlecraft you managed to retrieve into one of your sterile-looking shuttlebays."

At that instant Capt. Viss, tapped a touch-button on his desk front side, which slowly and smoothly slid open his desk's top drawer. When the drawer was open, Viss immediately sifted through the contents of the drawer until he managed to fish out a 1/3 inch plasma screen PADD. After tapping the same touch-button which closed the drawer, he started tapping a few animate touch-buttons on the animate display until a fancy animate inventory showed up immediately. He then looked up at Picard and Riker with a dreamy sort of look in his face.

"Our vessel conducted initial scans of your ship and managed to locate successfully a Che'Va class shuttlecraft docked in Shuttlebay 2," stated Viss in his fairly official but semi-dramatic manner. "During evacuation of your temporal guests from the _K'Tan_ we dumped our external hard drives containing…memory logs…of what was in the human children's minds ever since the beginning of their own…_insignificant_ childhoods."

Picard eyed him closely like the cautious and watchful eyes of a hawk. "I think I see what you mean here," he said rather suspiciously. "Indeed I have personally surveyed the memory logs."

Immediately alerted Capt. Viss slapped down his PADD on an area of his desk's front side nearest to the edge and directly facing him. "Ah!" he began, as he was very much carried away by dramatic indignation in the tone of his voice. "But 'surveyed' without understanding them! Surveyed…without so much as to fathom the significance of those memories from olden times!" He lowered his voice a but. "Yesss, Captain; those memory logs won't have much interesting meaning to you limited Earthlings without an expert to tell you what is truly behind them. They just…cry out for an expert."

"And I would correctly presume that _you_ are the experts in these matters?" inquired Picard a tad skeptically, but cautiously.

"Yes," replied Viss. He paused for a second before resuming. "You see, Captain, unlike most alien hardware, Corellian technology is second to none. Look around you, Captain. We…have been able to accomplish great things most species would never have dreamed of, and not even your high-and-mighty and long-enduring Federation has got this close. We flicker back and forth through the fabric of space and time, fascinatingly gaining knowledge from incredible and irresistible species of old. And the new…we obtain through making occasional trips…to the future."

"Yet you seem to be quite secretive about all of this," put in Picard.

"Necessity compels us to be secretive in our daily activities, Jean-Luc," said Viss casually. "We…are a species that prefer to be left alone to our own devices. We wage war only to defend our own interests, but for the most part, the majority of all Corellians operate under what you would call…a "laissez-faire" attitude known to most alien species…such as yourselves."

It seemed that there was a tinge of irony in Capt. Viss's statement about the very idea of the Corellians remaining secretive in their daily activities due to Picard and Riker's presence in one of the most advanced Corellian space vessels in the galaxy, which Riker no doubt was quick to point out.

"But if you were so secretive, you wouldn't have bothered to issue a summons to beam aboard your vessel and have a nice little chat with each other in your ultra-fancy ready room," put in Riker.

"Necessity compelled me to summon your captain because I want to negotiate with him about giving us back our five human guinea pigs."

"The dictates of human rights compel us not to give in to individuals who would use our guests for unethical experiments that will affect their physiology," said Picard. "We have done most of the work ourselves without such repercussions." He mused a bit on Viss's necessity. "And speaking of necessity," he continued on, "Why did you order me and my first officer to beam aboard your ship?"

"To confide to you something in private. Something…that has something to do with your five guests from time."

Picard slowly approached closer to Viss, all quiet-like. "How do you know all of this?" he said in a whispered manner.

Capt. Viss switched on his sandwiched two-layered laptop computer, which was equipped with a highly advanced 16-inch plasma screen which brought up things animatedly, and turned the screen in a manner that it faced Picard. With just the keyboard in front of him, he brought up a video file which played a last transmission of what occurred on board the _K'Tan_ during the past five days. The initial scenes comprised of Capt. Fass's interview of each of the five children. Another scene played a brief filming of Felicity sleeping in the prisoner brig, and the scene changed to Felicity and the rest of her friends and kin confined to the brig as well. Then another scene showed the children running through the corridors, accompanied by a couple of Corellian security officers as they proceeded to evacuate from the Borg-invaded vessel. The scene changed again to show the grave face of Capt. Fass relaying an oral message to Corellian Homeworld Headquarters moments before his vessel self-destructed. There was a bit of interference in the video play before the screen cleared up completely.

"These are the images we have for our five human child subjects used for analysis. Initially we achieved oral interviews on each of them, and recorded them into our external hardware, in order to authenticate them as…children from time. Our experiments, however, were cut short due to shipboard invasion from the Borg. We could not afford to let our human specimens stay on board, due to the intimidating possibility of being subject to assimilation, so we shipped them off in a cryo-tube on board one of our Che'Va class shuttlecraft.

"Since the last few minutes we received no further transmission from the craft itself, thereby lending to the morose conclusion that all communication with the shuttlecraft…have been ultimately cut off. Prior to shipment, each of our human specimens have been injected with not only a powerful sedative, but also a subspace nano-homing beacon, which, if programmed correctly, can be adjusted to the right frequency to track their course."

There was a brief silence as the screen showed Capt. Fass checking the countdown timer for the vessel's self-destruct system.

"As I have but 55 seconds before my ship self-destructs, I am now uploading transmitter settings on a coded frequency to Corellian headquarters, in the hopes that one of our vessels will be able to track it down and keep our human specimens safe."

There was another pause.

"Our main issue is getting them back to headquarters to perform further analysis prior to shipping them back to their own time. Right now, the past of planet Earth, as it is, has become altered by a tad as a result of their…extraction…or abduction…if you will, of our human specimens. The result of them being that a new timeline was created, which comprises of a semi-eternal legend of the five missing human children, taken away, never to return, and said legend gets passed on to the ages. Of course, the changes seem to be quite barely noticeable unless one peers a little closer at the details of Earth history, specifically the history that has relevance to the American continent."

Capt. Fass paused again a bit for at least three seconds.

"It is my hope that such a crucial undertaking will be accomplished, but the matter of who will go about it remains to be seen, and…"

The transmission was abruptly cut off as the vessel exploded, and when Capt. Fass was ultimately consumed by a deluge of pyrotechnic flames. The screenplay flickered off like that of turning off a television screen. Picard's expression was tad surprised, due to the fact that he lacked the knowledge of the missing details concerning the story of how Felicity and her friends and kin managed to get on board the _Enterprise_ via the Corellian shuttlecraft.

"This transmission was made approximately five days ago, at exactly 1037 hours, seconds before the _K'Tan_ engaged its self-destruct systems. It was sent on a coded frequency to Headquarters on our homeworld, and were then transmitted to my vessel, as you can plainly see here right now on my computer screen."

Picard only stared at him warily, like a doctor studying his patient. "You sound and act as though you've lost something…or someone on board you hold dear."

"I did," replied Viss curtly in a grim manner, pausing after he spoke. "Capt. Fass was my brother."

There was another brief moment of silence again.

"He shares a fear, just like most of us intellectuals, that if such a mission is not accomplished, the timeline remains forever altered and tarnished," continued Viss. "And that it is we who will bear the guilt of our sins."

"So your implication is that these children have to be sent back to their own time immediately…and without fail," put in Picard.

"Of course," agreed Viss. "But not before we have performed further analysis on them. There is…I'm forced to admit…further work to be done."

"Which we went through an awful lot of trouble to perform, Captain," finished Picard, "So quite frankly, there seems to be no further need of it. If we delay any further, the situation can escalate catastrophically if an unfriendly invasion force attempts to abduct them."

Viss became immediately alerted and his entire body was almost clenched for action. "You dare refer us to this "unfriendly invasion force", sir?" he asked coldly.

"Fortunately, no," replied Picard coolly. He mused skeptically for a second. "As I recall, we found three Borg drones the moment we retrieved one of your shuttlecraft. Now could _that_ be your unfriendly invasion force?"

Capt. Viss held back from answering. Picard could almost conclude from the look of Viss's face that the Borg were indeed the invasion force.

"They were your feared enemy, weren't they," Picard concurred almost right away. "Most likely that is the whole reason why the captain decided to evacuate the children from the _K'Tan_ and self-destruct the ship."

Viss formed an almost straight and bland smile on his face. "Very good captain," he said almost slyly. "You…of all people…seem to have quite the knack to disseminate the given facts in such a manner so you could come up with a seemingly logical conclusion."

Although Viss's statement was a compliment, Picard himself did not seem flattered by it. "But why?" he asked quietly in dismay.

Capt. Viss leaned further forward while seated on his desk, his arms akimbo. "As I mentioned previously, Jean-Luc, Corellian technology is second to none when it comes to most sophisticated alien hardware. If the Borg…were to the assimilate even one of us, the consequences could be disastrous for interests, as well as the well-being of not only our homeworld, but also for the rest of the galaxy. _That_…is why we have so much of a willingness to sacrifice even our closest companions just so that we can avoid our unique knowledge being exploited by the Borg for their devious means."

"But your ways of sacrificing your compatriots is just inhuman, Captain," objected Picard bluntly.

"Yes…Well, I guess that is what happens when you live on the fringes of Corellian space," Viss replied rather casually. He decided to immediately change the topic. "Anyway, I want the human specimens back."

Riker sat bolt upright on his chair. "For what?" he said boldly. "Further demonic experimentations?"

"If our experimentations were demonic, they wouldn't be surviving on board your fancy little ship right now," replied Capt. Viss with a cool calm. "We went to an awful lot of trouble to make sure that we took good care of our guests from time."

"But that's only the first time," Riker put in further. "The second time,…"

"And will be taken good care of even on the second time, and the next of times to come," finished Viss in a fairly reassuring manner. "Not to worry, my human friends."

"I wish I could be assured," Riker said wryly.

"And you will," said Viss. "And after the experimentations I can promise you worrisome humans that they will be shipped back to exactly where and when they came from in the fabric of space and time."

Picard cast his rather sharp and wary stare at Viss. "But they'll still have some knowledge of the future," he warned. "Doesn't that bother you, Captain?"  
"Why should it?" Viss asked, shrugging his shoulders. "The rest of their friends…and kin…will _never_ believe them anyway. They'll just think of them as…imaginative for their age…and…_stupid_."

"I'm not entirely sure I can take my chances instantly on that matter," declared Picard, as a thought entered the back of his glossy bald head. "But _that_…is left up for our guests to decide."

"Decide on what?" challenged Viss almost bitterly. "Whether they get to go back or not?"

Picard just stared sternly at him.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk…" said Viss disapprovingly, clicking his alien tongue. "As our last transmission has just mentioned, Jean-Luc, our extraction of five human children from the eastern part of Colonial America has just altered the timeline by a rather…unnoticeable tad. For most of our test subjects…we didn't really give our…guinea pigs…a choice of whether to stay in this timeline or not. The moment we were finished with our experimentations on various artifacts…or souvenirs…from time, we just simply shipped them back exactly where and when they came from. That…is how we work, Jean-Luc."

"But your activities can further interfere with the timeline," said Picard, intending his statement to be some form of warning to Capt. Viss. "Bit by bit."

"We have ways of alleviating such a circumstance," reassurred Viss casually. "Don't ask me what it is; we Corellians keep most of our technology and methods…trade secret. It's better if you didn't know."

"I wish I could believe that," put in Riker.

"Well, believe it, Officer, because it's a fact," Viss replied firmly.

"Oh, come on, Captain," retorted Riker half-humorously. "You expect us to take it on faith that you've got a method of alleviating these…gradual alterations…and screw-ups…of the entire flowing fabric of time?"

Capt. Viss just remained silent, stolidly staring at both the men.

"Assume we do, Officer, and leave it at that," Viss commanded curtly. "No further questions."

There was another moment of silence before Picard pressed the niggling matter further.

"But then you face an inevitable possibility of the children getting far too attracted to the technological amenities of this timeline, and most likely, the timeline itself," he said. "What if they intend to stay _in_ this timeline?'

"_That_…I will decide for myself, Captain, and possibly with the consultation of my superiors from the Corellian Homeworld Headquarters, while _you_ two…and the human younglings decide amongst yourselves about going back…or remaining behind."

Picard took a bit of time to think a moment on the matter at hand.

"I intend to schedule a conference which involves our discussion of what we have just talked about to our guests from time," Picard said both firmly and warily. "But _only_…and _only_ if…you disengage your tractor beam."

"But if I do that, you'll no doubt escape," retorted Viss. "That…I cannot allow in the interests of Corellian science."

"You have my word that the _Enterprise_ will remain parked near your vessel while the discussions are in the midst of their making," reassurred Picard diplomatically.

Viss suddenly became pensive, thinking on the matter for a few seconds before coming to a decisive decision.

"Very well, Jean-Luc," concluded Viss. "I will disengage the tractor beam. But I warn you…that if you attempt to make your admirably daring escape, I _will_ be forced to fire on your ship."

"But your guests are on board, Captain," warned Riker. "You'll end up hurting them as a result, and your expectations for further experimentations will come to naught. Is that what you want, Captain?"

"I think that's a chance I'm willing to take," declared Viss, sounding almost cautious. He next turned to Picard. "You're willing to take chances, Captain. Are you?"

* * *

Back on board the _U.S.S. Enterprise_…

Transporter Room 2 was just as vacant as ever, except for Transporter Chief Miles O'Brien, who, as usual, was manning the console. In a few seconds, the sparkly particles energized directly and neatly on the transporter pads, taking the complete, unaltered shape and form of both Capt. Picard and Commander Riker.

Immediately after the beaming process, Capt. Picard turned to his first officer.

"Number One," he said to Riker briskly and in a professionally serious and an almost hurried manner, "Inform the senior staff that a conference will be held in the Observation Lounge. 1200 hours sharp."

"Right, Captain," concurred Riker. He paused for a moment, as a thought hit his head as he faced Picard while stroking his slightly bushy beard. "On second thought, don't you think it would be cruel to send them back? The history of the 1700s is filled with "interesting times"."

"I see what you mean," said Picard. "We'll have to consider the moral ramifications of this affair. We'll include aspects of them during the upcoming conference."

"Right-o," concurred Riker before changing the subject. "Do you mind if I take a nice scrub? I haven't had a decent bath since the past 48 hours on average."

"Tsk…" rejoined Picard gallingly, clicking his tongue in reaction to an idea he considered usually trivial when there were more important matters to attend to.

Both men took a stroll through the saucer section corridor. They had just made a left turn at a junction a few seconds ago, and behind them, their point of turning was at their left side.

"Under possible consequences of rash actions due to irrational desperation, I give you explicit orders not to mention anything that was discussed on the _K'Mar_ without my express and personally oral permission," commanded Picard staidly. This time he really meant serious business. "If such information were divulged, the situation, I fear, will escalate in such a manner that a majority of the crew will have the inclination to take matters into their own hands, thereby doing potential harm to the interests of our guests from time. Is that understood?"

"You've got it, sir," answered Riker in a professional manner.

"Good," rejoined Picard. "And hurry up with your assigned task. I have to get back to the Corellian vessel in order to conduct further negotiations with the captain, and possibly make him see sense in forgoing further experimentations with our guests that he is inclined to treat as pawns."

"Pawns, indeed," chuckled Riker. "Is that necessary, sir? You going back to the cruiser" he asked a tad seriously.

"Let's just say…that I'm trying to play our alien diplomats off bit by bit," said Picard, forcing a manly smile.

Riker waved off his commanding officer as he left for another section in the corridor.

Commander Riker had just reached another deck corridor in the saucer section, where his officer's quarters were. Upon arriving and entering his quarters, he was caught surprised. Lt. Corbin was already near the entranceway, inside Riker's quarters the moment Riker made his entry.

Lt. Corbin's face forced a small, unnaturally furtive grin, which could almost be perceived as evil and devious-looking. "Hi, there," he greeted slyly.

"How the hell did you…?" asked Riker.

Without waiting for Riker to even finish his rhetorical question, Lt. Corbin instantaneously pressed the tip of a hypospray directly on Riker's right side of his neck and injected something into his body.

* * *

A/N (1): The idea of Felicity and her friends and kin being injected with some kind of teeny-weeny tracking device may have to be reworked a bit. But later.

A/N (2): I forgot to mention earlier, but what I call the Corellian Che'Va class shuttlecraft was a bit modeled after the Longsword spacecraft in Bungie's _Halo_ series. The Longsword spacecraft are a bit like Lockheed's stealth bombers, though they're somewhat modified.

A/N (3): I tried to make the dialogue among Picard, Riker, and Capt. Viss as intellectually erudite as possible, despite the intellectual limitations of my 19-year-old mind on matters of diplomacy and possible controversial issues in the philosophical realm. (I just turned 19 as I worked on Chapter 33, during my birthday). I feel that the dialogue may be a bit…cheesy, but I'm open to suggestions for intellectual improvement.


	35. Chapter 35

_**Star Trek: The Next Generation – Souvenirs**_

**Written By:**_** Commander Cody CC-2224**_

CHAPTER 35

The atmosphere in the Guest Quarters was rife with inactivity and prolonged moments of serenity as Ben, Elizabeth, Nan, and William quietly kept themselves busy as bees. Felicity was absent because she wanted to take a quiet little stroll to herself in the Deck 10 corridors.

An exception could be made for Ben, however, since as usual he became bored right away whenever there was nothing to do, and most of the time he preferred to do something fun and interesting, although he could be willing at times to his two pence worth of anything to do, whether it was fun or not.

But in around a few minutes, Ben remembered that he brought with him a replicated kitchen knife and a cylindrical wooden stick that was half a foot in length and an inch in diameter that he was intending for whittling. Retrieving the set he ripped open the bag in the manner of an excited, careless toddler and poured out the contents. Then he set himself to whittling to his heart and soul's content in order to pass the time.

Elizabeth, on the other hand, decided to resort to pastimes that were considered ladylike for her personal predilections. Currently seated on the very right side corner of the main bed, the side nearest Ben's trundle bed, she was busying herself to reading a replicated 18th century copy of _The Book of Common Prayer_ for some meditative reading. However, after a few minutes, she placed the book beside her and took up her unfinished sampler to pass the time as well.

Nan was busying herself over a replicated copy of one of the classical English fairy tales called _Jack the Giant Killer_. William was impatiently waiting for his sister to hand over the book to him.

For some reason, Elizabeth thought the atmosphere was a little too quiet for her taste that she decided to break the silence a little. Furthermore her mind was racing to know what was taking Felicity so long, since she said she would be back by at least 1040 hours, and it was ten minutes past.

"I wonder what's taking Lissie so long," she said, a she daintily perked up her head from her sampler.

"Dunno," replied Ben as he whittled away. "She said she'd be back with in a relative few minutes or so."

Silence reigned again briefly before it was Ben's turn to break it. "Though I wish she'd come back a little sooner," he said a little wistfully, as he felt a kind of restlessness surging within himself. "We're just about ready to take a visit to what they call the 'fencing area'. I do like to try out a bit of swordplay, you know."

Elizabeth just simply sighed and shrugged her dainty shoulders a little as she resumed her work on her sampler.

Meanwhile turmoil was starting to boil as Nan and William started quarreling over the book. William made his initial move as he grabbed the book with both his little hands, much to Nan's unladylike dismay.

"William!" Nan squeaked. "How could you!"

"You've had that book for too long!" complained William. "'Tis my turn now!"

"I wasn't finished!" Nan wailed. "I was just getting close to the end! You could have waited a little more!"

"I'm tired of waiting, Nan!" William complained again. "I want the book NOW!" He kept grabbing the book as hard as he could. Nan, despite being much of a little house mouse, put forth her best efforts to keep a hard grasp on the book as well.

The mini-scuffle kept going on until Elizabeth stepped into the scene with the intention of alleviating the quarreling as best as she could.

"Pray, what is going on between you to?" she tried to ask politely, trying to control her exasperated state of mind.

By the time Elizabeth was finished with her question, Nan had already managed to yank the book from William's grip. "William tried to grab the book from me," she blurted out in a rather sing-song tone of voice for a child her age.

Elizabeth did not need to question the little youngsters further, since William started pouring forth his screed immediately after his older sister spoke. "That's because she had the book for too long and she won't give it to me."

Elizabeth thought for a moment. "Did you…um…try to ask nicely?" she asked the boy.

"Aye," answered William half-curtly. He hung his head in resentful anger and cross his arms.

"And?" pressed Elizabeth.

"She still won't give it."

"Well, maybe she's not done with it yet," said Elizabeth.

"'Tis true," put in Nan.

Elizabeth exhaled, and then turned to William. "Sweet William," she began. "Your older sister is nearly finished with the book. Surely you could wait a little more."

At the sound of "Sweet William," Ben started bursting into a fit of hearty guffaws as he plopped himself down and upright on his trundle bed. Elizabeth gave him a rather cross look before she turned her eyes on the youngsters.

"I can't wait! I won't wait!" whined William.

"Then Nan has no incentive to give you the book, William," she said calmly.

"I think I'll just grab it from her," William declared determinedly, as he proceeded to grab the book again. When he did lunge away with the book from Nan, the recoil made him flip to the floor on his left side. For a split second William had the book, but it was immediately snatched away by Elizabeth.

"If you don't stop bickering right now," said Elizabeth, facing specifically at William. "I'm going to tell your older sister that you are misbehaving."

"I don't care," retorted William, hanging his head again in resentment.

"She's bound to give you a spannn-kinggg," said Elizabeth in her sing-song voice. "And lock you in the closet for the rest of your life."

"Really?" retorted a very irate William.

Elizabeth bit her lip as a thoughtful look crept into her face fast. "Well, not exactly," she answered, as she handed the book back to Nan.

"Thank you, Miss Elizabeth," said Nan sweetly.

"You're welcome, Miss Nan," rejoined Elizabeth.

"Humph!" complained William crossly.

"I'm almost done," said Nan, as she faced her younger brother. "See? I'm only at the beginning of the last page! It won't take very long!"

"See, William?" agreed Elizabeth. "You just have to wait but for a minute or two, and you'll get the book after Nan is finished. Now stop your whining."

Leaving William somewhat satisfied, Elizabeth went back to her little corner on the king-sized bed and resumed her sampler work. She heaved a sigh of relief. She never got to experience something like that when Annabelle was the older sister. And Ben could somehow perceive it.

"Are you finding the experience of being the older sister somewhat enjoyable?" he asked.

"I think so," answered Elizabeth. She got to see Nan hand the fairy-tale book over to her younger brother, who received it with childish glee. "I could never experience something like this when it was Annabelle who was the older sister."

Ben formed a teasing smirk across his face as he moved to a certain area near Elizabeth's little corner. "Do you enjoy bossing people around?"

"Only when 'tis necessary." Elizabeth gave Ben a quick glance. "Might I inquire as to what you are doing near my private little corner?" she asked, her inflection descending. "Are you trying to come up with new ways to frighten the wits out of me?"

"What makes you think I would do that?" asked Ben rhetorically.

"Aside from an inclination to hotheadedness you seem to have an inclination to mischief," said Elizabeth.

"So do you, when you and Lissie tease your older sister."

Elizabeth looked rather skeptically at Ben. "I do not recall ever talking about such things in front of you," she said. "Pray, how did you ever come across such talk?"

"I hear occasional rumors whenever I help at the General Store," answered Ben, as he relaxed himself upright on the bed. "And speaking of mischief, I just had a thought…about reciting a little children's poem."

Elizabeth chuckled to herself. "Wonderful, Ben. But don't you think you are too old for such childish things?"

"Nope."

"Then may I inquire as to what the poem is all about?"

Ben sat up on bed near Elizabeth's corner and jumped off until he faced her. "'Tis about…_you_."

"Are you trying to woo me?"

"I…wha-…" stuttered Ben. "Lizzie, are you out of your Loyalist mind..._again_? You of all Tories are starting to have the strangest ideas about me! And not only is it strange, it's also absurd. I'm just reciting it because I'm…well…bored."

"As usual," sighed Elizabeth. "All right. Go on and speak your peace."

Ben cleared his throat. "Here it goes," he began. "And I'm trying to imagine _you_ saying this about your best friend." He proceeded to begin his recitation in his rather crude ventriloquist skills when he attempted to make his pitch as high as a girl's.

_"Lissie my best friend and I fell out._

_And what do you think 'twas all about?_

_She loved coffee and I loved tea._

_And that was the reason we couldn't agree."_

As Ben recited the poem in high-pitch for the purposes of representing Elizabeth in mock fashion, Elizabeth's charming smile gradually changed into a series frown.

"And all this from Elizabeth's point of view," finished Ben. Gradually he noticed Elizabeth's frown.

"You're not even thinking of such a detestable piece of poetry, Benjamin Davidson," she said almost bitingly. After sighing crossly in a manner that greatly hinted disapproval, she started to speak quiet defensively. "Despite our differences, Lissie and I have always remained best friends, and always will be." Elizabeth could be quite sensitive at times, and Ben knew it, though he would occasionally take advantage of that whenever he got bored, much to her and her best friend's disapproval.

"Come on, Elizabeth!" put in Ben half-humorously. "Can't you even take a joke?"

Elizabeth roll her eyes sideways before forming a half-smile on her face, as she sort of remembered the times when both she and Felicity made fun of her older sister Annabelle.

"I suppose…" she concluded, as she took a softer line in her behavior.

* * *

Felicity was not at the Guest Quarters with the rest of her friends and siblings because she wanted to take a little stroll in the Deck 10 saucer section corridors all by herself in order to relieve the tension that crept all around her ever since her ordeal with dealing with flighty and hotheaded Ben. She wanted (and needed) to stretch her legs, as well as meditate by herself on what to do next, since it seemed to her that she and the rest of the group would stay in the 24th century; and since her father and mother were absent, she would have to take up some kind of maternal leadership, since most of the time she would have to be the "strong one", as her conscience would occasionally admonish her. Being ten years old, the responsibilities she would take on herself would be nearly overwhelming, so she entreated her friends and siblings to give her a bit of a moment's peace so she could do some thinking and planning in the back of her pretty head.

As Felicity sauntered quietly on the port side of the deck her ears were alerted to a muffled conversation on the corridors walls on her left side. Curious as to what the gibberish was all about, she quietly followed the sound trail until she came across a guest room with its sliding doors opened, which was kind of unnatural, given that most of the sliding doors would be closed unless movement was detected. For some reason, the door was malfunctioned, and they just simply stayed open, slid to their edges in opposite directions.

Felicity strafed the walls until she made her stealthy approach to the open doorway, where the conversation grew a little louder every time she inched her way closer. She peeked her head by a tiny bit. There stood Commander Riker at the right side of the doorway from her frame of reference, along with a handful of crew personnel in red and yellow uniforms, perhaps seven at best. When she started focusing herself, the talk could get quite comprehensible.

"No, no, no, guys, listen," insisted Riker, as he lowered his voice a bit. "Our only solution at hand is to get rid of them."

"Who's them?" Felicity whispered to herself curiously. Her question was answered when one of the crewmen in yellow uniform asked the same thing.

"Okay, who's we, kemo-sabe?" asked the crewman.

"Them," rejoined Riker hastily. "You know, those children. The little boys and girls who have just come here from 1776? They can't stay here. It's too risky."

Hearing that, Felicity immediately moved her head away from the opening's edge and shrank back to the wall in dreaded fright, her hand on her chest. "Why?" she asked fearfully to herself. Her mind started racing. Was Riker involved in getting rid of her and her friends and siblings?

One of the guys in red uniform started questioning Riker's suggestion. "Would you mind enlightening me as to why we're supposed to get rid of them?"

"Why, you like children too much? Are you starting to get to attracted to them?"

"It's not so much as to the attraction, but can't that wait until we head back to Earth?"

"No it can't," said Riker in apprehensive anger. "They're targets of a relentless enemy. They have to be dumped. And soon."

"And how do _you_ suggest we go about that?" asked one of the yellow-uniformed guys.

Commander Riker took a deep breath. "Torpedoes," he answered curtly. "We use empty Mark VI torpedo casings. We take the warheads out, and we dump 'em into each of those casings."

"What?" asked the crewman.

"Then we launch each of 'em into space, dispersing them in different directions."

"But separating them from each other…" protested the crewman before Riker interrupted him further.

"Is of great necessity. It's cheap, it's easy, and it's less trouble, and we've got enough of it on our hands as it already is. Maybe it will take some time to find them, and it will allay the possibility of whoever is chasing after them invading the _Enterprise_."

"Seriously, Commander, be reasonable. There's got to be a better way. Why not just simply put them on the shuttlecraft?"

"We either do it my way, or risk having those hostiles board our ship," insisted Riker determinedly. "Captain's orders."

This was too much. Felicity was now apprehensive about hearing Riker plotting to get rid of her and her friends. But behind her fears was anger for him. _How can he do this?_ she thought to herself. _I always thought that Mr. Riker was a nice fellow! It makes no sense! _She struggled to calm herself, despite fear of the frightening prospects of her and her friends and kin being dumped out of the _Enterprise_ and scattered in different directions across the vastness of space. She feared for herself, as well as the rest of her companions. If such was going to be the case, she would have to find a way to seek help from any of the officers she and her friends knew could be trusted, or if not, find a way out of the ship before such a plot could be carried out against them. And time was rapidly running out before she would be suspected of knowing what Riker was up to.

Felicity sprinted across the mildly crowded Deck 10 corridor. She tried to run as fast as she could, while at the same time trying to lift the skirts of her cream-colored gown. Unfortunately she ran a little too fast that she ended up tripping on them.

THUMP!

A surge of embarrassment came across her, as Felicity realized how much she was making a spectacle of herself after falling forward flat in a heap. But she knew that this was no time to feel sorry for herself at the moment. She had a task to do, which was to prevent the possibility of her and her friends and siblings being separated from each other at whim.

Suddenly stepping into the scene was a young ensign in yellow uniform, whose looks betrayed a Germanic origin. His hazel-blond hair glistened in the fluorescent light and his blue-gray eyes sparkled.

"Vhät ees ze pröblem, Fröylein?" he asked in his thick German accent.

Felicity looked up, confused. "F- Fröylein?" she stammered.

"Jä," replied the foreign ensign, as he helped her up. "Fröy-lein. Ees nöt how Ī nörmälly äddress peo-pül?"

"Um…" rejoined Felicity in a rather confounded manner. "Who _are_ you?"

"Eensen Kärl Bergen. I'm Bülgerian, from _Deutschland_. Vhät ees ze pröblem?"

Though the ensign was trying to be helpful, Felicity felt she couldn't really trust him after what she had been hearing from Riker's plotting against her and her loved ones. What if the ensign was in league with Riker himself. She knew that she had to be cautious this time.

Felicity tried not to feel nervous, despite herself. "Um…nothing, really," she replied as straightly as she could. She brushed off a bit, smoothed and fluffed the skirts of her cream-colored gown, pleated her stubborn red hair and straightened her mobcap. "I'm…uh,…I'm fine," she finished.

The ensign could not help looking at Felicity in a skeptical and suspicious manner. Felicity came to the immediate realization that he was not that stupid to begin with.

"Der ees sömetheeng een yer ffoice däht bee-trāys en äpprehenseeff feeleeing, Fröylein," he began, as he continued ogling at Felicity. "Mīght Ī eenquīre äs to vhät yer nāme ees, and vhere yü göt dees strānj-lükeeng cös-chüm?"

"Um…I'd rather you didn't…sir," replied Felicity half-curtly with nervous hesitancy. "I thank you for your offer, but I'm…I'm disinclined to accept it."

The ensign heaved a half-hearted sigh. "Vhätever, Fröylein," he replied in a friendly tone of voice. "Eef you häff ques-chiöns, pleese dön't hes-ee-tate tü cöll me. I verk een ze eengeneering sec-shiön, Deck Therty-Seex."

Felicity nodded rather confusedly and the ensign strutted off the hallway. Pulling up her skirts, Felicity dashed through the corridor as fast as her legs could carry her until she reached the turbolift.

"Deck thirty-six!" she panted.

As the lift made its immediate descent, Felicity's breath was rapid due to anxiety and fear. _I must be brave_, she tried to think resolutely. _I must be brave. For my loved ones' sake_.

When the lift reached Deck 36, Felicity rushed out and continued running until she reached the engineering section. _Perhaps there's at least one person I could trust; at one of the senior officers_, thought Felicity. _If not, I can try the good Doctor. Or Miss Counselor. Or Mr. Data. Or the captain. But at least someone I consider trustworthy!_ She desperately hoped that God would at least hear half her prayer, that is, if he wasn't too busy with other matters._ Oh, God, please help me,_ she prayed to herself.

Suddenly Felicity was able to spot Geordi La Forge, who was busy making modifications to the warp drive. Felicity didn't bother to ask what was going on; for her, all that mattered was to get help for her and her friends and siblings. Or at least _some_ help.

"Mr. La Forge! Mr. La Forge!" she cried.

Geordi sighed with great exasperation as he was working on reconnecting wires to the drive. "Ma'am, can't you see I'm busy? I'll get back to you later."

"Please, it's urgent," pleaded Felicity. She desperately hoped her plea would work.

With a sigh, La Forge put his soldering tool beside him and turned to Felicity. "What is it, ma'am?" he asked half-curtly and rapidly.

Felicity gulped and cleared her throat. "Do you know where the captain is? Is…is he here?"

"I'm afraid he's not on board this ship, ma'am," replied La Forge. "He's on board a Corellian vessel, holding diplomatic discussions with the Corellian senior officers. Riker and Data are with him, I think." He stopped, as he narrowed his eyes at the girl. "Why, what's the matter?" he asked her.

"Mr…Mr. Riker plans to get rid of us!" Felicity blurted out. "I-I heard him."

La Forge gave Felicity a rather serious look. "Get rid of you?" he asked in a state of incredulity. Felicity nodded meekly.

"Ma'am…I'd be careful sayin' that if I were you," warned La Forge firmly but in a friendly tone of voice. "You know that is a very serious accusation you can make to a senior officer."

"But I heard him!" cried Felicity. "Can't you do something about it? Or…or at least tell me what to do?"

La Forge became pensive a bit, as he considered the likelihood of Felicity's story. "Hmm…Lady,…I think you're just kidding yourself. I…I just don't see that very likely." He thought for a moment. "But…if _you_ feel so distraught, I can ask the Counselor. She'll be more than happy to help you." He tapped his combadge. "Computer, locate Counselor Troi," he said quickly.

In a few seconds two beeps ranging from high to very high in a different respective tune emitted from the internal speakers before the female voice of the computer spoke aloud. "COUNSELOR TROI IS IN HER QUARTERS."

"You know how to get there?" La Forge asked briskly.

"I…um…I think so," Felicity faltered. She hoped the remedy would help. "Th-thank you," she finished, as she bobbed a curtsy.

"You're welcome," rejoined La Forge. "I have to get back to work, Miss. I might investigate that strange matter you just brought up, but the seeming absurdity of it compels me to wait for me to finish my task before I start gallivanting around."

Without another word, Felicity briskly ran off to the stardrive hallway corridors and then to the turbolift, where she used it to take herself to Deck 8, where the Counselor's quarters were.

She tapped the door chime touch-button, but no answer came, not even from Troi herself. She knew it was rude to enter a room unasked, but she had no choice. She positioned herself in a manner where the automatic sliding doors opened at her presence, and immediately she tiptoed inside.

"M-miss Counselor?" she called, faltering. Still no answer. Then suddenly she noticed something a little…strange. A combadge was resting on a small coffee table, and she could immediately recognize it as part and parcel of a Starfleet crewperson. Tiptoeing quietly, she made her cautious approach to the closet. She opened the closet quietly, thinking that Miss Counselor might be hiding in there, possibly in solitude, though the thought to her was kind of absurd; to her, grown-ups just didn't do stuff like that. But then of course there was no one there.

Her last logical location was the bathroom area. Again she made a cautious approach to the bathroom door. _Now that would seem to be a likely place for Miss Counselor to be in_, she thought to herself. She knocked on the door. "Miss Counselor?" she called again.

To her it just didn't seem right to just simply barge into the bathroom whenever it was shut, or locked. Whether the bathroom doors were locked were another matter; propriety insisted restraint on such rash actions. So Felicity knocked again a second time. Still no answer.

Then she knocked again for a third time? "Miss Counselor, I need your help! Please!" she called desperately for what seemed to be a third time.

She had no choice now. She either had to break propriety or risk having her and her friends and siblings be victim to what she perceived as Riker's plot. She got herself closer to the sliding doors in a manner that they would open to her. And they did.

But when she stumbled into the bathroom her entire body shook with fright. As she peered closely to the bathtub, she could find Counselor Troi resting right side up, and unconscious, with her eyes wide-open. Felicity was now in total horrific shock.

* * *

Meanwhile, back in the Guest Quarters, everything seemed to be going normal than usual. It could certainly be said that ignorance was bliss, because Ben, Elizabeth, Nan, and William were going about their daily activities, unaware that something bad would happen to them. At least from Felicity's point of view.

Without her knowledge, Ben surreptitiously pinned an 8x12 bond paper sign on Elizabeth's back, specifically on the upper part of her gown, near the neck area. He gave her a rather manly and encouraging double pat on the back, much to Elizabeth's mixture of dismay and amusement.

"So there you have it," said Ben.

"Have what?" asked Elizabeth.

"The joke, of course." As Elizabeth turned her back on him, Ben started giggling to himself quietly in the background. Feeling somewhat alerted by the muffled giggling, Elizabeth turned around to face Ben, and her back with the sign was now facing both Nan and William. William, who was sitting near the wall reading the fairy-tale book, perked his little head up the moment he noticed the sign. Not knowing any better, he tried to read off the sign aloud, in an attitude that indicated that he was taking whatever was on the sign literally.

"I…Bitsy…is…a stupid…L-Loyalist…pussy," William read aloud precociously.

Elizabeth immediately turned around to face William. "I beg your pardon?" she asked quickly in alarm.

"William!" squeaked Nan in dismay. "How can you say such a thing? 'Tis most improper!"

William immediately turned to his older sister with a face that indicated innocence. "But the sign says it. See Nan?" said William, as he pointed his right hand index finger at the sign itself. "It says it."

"A sign?" asked Elizabeth.

Nan glanced at the sign. Elizabeth struggled to reach for her back and after feeling a semi-sharp paper thing pinned to her back, she immediately ripped it off. Her face gradually became cross as she gave the sign a quick glance under the gaze of her avid blue eyes. Sure enough, the sign read exactly as William read it. The thick block letters were all caps, and they read, I, BITSY, IS A STUPID LOYALIST PUSSY. She also noticed that the word "IS" between the words "BITSY and the article "A" was grammatically incorrect, requiring that the word "AM" should have been in place of the word "IS".

But to her the grammar mattered little. What mattered now was what the sign implied of Elizabeth's personality. To her, it was one thing to playfully tease a girl in good fun, but it was another to deliberately tease a girl in an insulting manner. It just went against the rules of propriety in her time.

"I am _so_ offended," she said to herself quite coldly as her eyes scanned the sign.

Little Nan decided to pour forth her opinion. "Th-that can't be," she said. "I always thought Miss Elizabeth was…"

"No it isn't," interrupted Elizabeth almost snappishly, struggling to calm herself as she crinkled up the paper sign. It was just her typical way she felt whenever she was called "Bitsy". "Ben is just trying to play despicable jokes on me." She turned to Ben and faced him crossly. "Shame on you, Benjamin Davidson," she said quite firmly. "I'm really tempted to tell Lissie about what you've done. Mayhap she'll give you a good scolding."

Ben scoffed and chuckled as if he didn't care one bit. "What's so despicable about _that_?" he asked her. "You and Lissie play jokes on your older sister."

"But only for a good reason. And _not_ in the way you audaciously do it."

"Why, was not mine a good reason?" Ben asked rhetorically and mischievously.

Elizabeth only sighed exasperatedly and scowled at Ben while Nan tried to remove the pin off Elizabeth's back top of her gown.

"God help you if ever start calling me a 'hussy'," said Elizabeth seriously.

Ben immediately plopped back on the bed, laughing out loud.

Meanwhile Felicity then set out to find Dr. Crusher. She first checked into the Main Sickbay, but to her dismay the Doctor wasn't there. The only personnel available in the sickbay were a handful of medical personnel under Dr. Crusher's close friend and second-in-command Nurse Ogawa.

"Can I help you, sir?" she asked quite friendly in perfect English.

Felicity shrank back, as though she had never seen an Oriental before, especially one of Japanese origins. "I'm…uh…I'm looking for the head doctor," she replied a little hastily. "Dr. Crusher. Do you know her?"

"I do. She's the chief medical officer on board the _Enterprise_."

"Is she here?"

"I'm afraid not, ma'am. She's in her quarters."

Felicity felt as though everything was hopeless. "What for?" she asked anxiously.

"She…um…she didn't say exactly; only to the effect that she went to get something from there."

Without another word Felicity ran off to locate Dr. Crusher's quarters with a little help from the Nurse, as well as with the assistance of the computer's audio-based navigation systems. She tapped the door chime touch-button, but no answer came. _Please, please let her be here_," prayed Felicity. After three tries and no responses, Felicity entered the room unasked without hesitation, taking upon herself the responsibility to explain why she entered without being given permission.

It was the same fear-generating state of affairs that Felicity had to endure again. The combadge was on the bed, which led her to believe that something had gone wrong with Dr. Crusher, though she knew not what. Instinctively she checked the closet, only to find the Doctor…unconscious.

Now Felicity was really scared.

Getting quite panicky inside her body, as if her guts would literally explode out of her pretty skin, Felicity rushed off to the Guest quarters. God willing, she would do all she can to tell the rest of her friends and siblings what has happened and what would happen if they didn't take immediate action.

While Felicity was feeling scared shitless about those terrible happenings with Counselor Troi and Dr. Crusher, Elizabeth and Ben kept mildly arguing with each other while Nan kept peering at the fairy-tale book that William was now holding with both hands, each on the binding of the book.

"…I want to think of you as one of my friends, Ben," said Elizabeth, as she resumed her work on her sampler. "But how can I do so when you keep teasing me like this?"

"It's easy," rejoined Ben a tad casually and lazily. "Just simply accept unkind and mean-spirited remarks in the spirit of patience like a good little Christian girl. Besides, don't you remember two of the Eight Beatitudes? 'Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth.'? Not to mention the last one that says, 'Blessed are those who persecution for…"

"Ben," interrupted Elizabeth frostily. "Stop using the Beatitudes to justify your unkind actions."

"Well, what do _you_ know about them anyway?" challenged Ben.

Elizabeth became silent for a moment. "Little, I'm afraid…in terms of what a well-schooled Reverend would judge." She looked Ben in the eye. "But I know enough to know that you do not use them to excuse your wrongdoing."

"Wrongdoing?" retorted Ben a little humorously. "What's so wrong about what I did, Elizabeth Cole? I thought it was all in good fun."

"To you, it is," said Elizabeth. "But we girls take such things very seriously."

"See? No sense of humor?" finished Ben with an appropriate hand gesture.

"On the contrary, Benjamin Davidson, I do have a sense of humor," rejoined Elizabeth. "Yours, on the other hand, I'm afraid, is almost perverted."

"Wow," said Ben rather sarcastically.

"'Tis not something to be proud of," pressed Elizabeth. "Calling me 'Bitsy' and using my political association to make a mockery out of me is just detestable. Why do you do such things anyway?"

"Because it's…fun?" asked Ben rather casually.

Elizabeth sighed rather crossly. "You're a gentleman, Benjamin Davidson," she rebuked. "Even if you are a typical hotheaded Patriot, you can _act_ better. I know you can."

In reaction, Ben just simply sauntered off to the coffee table, grabbed his gadget magazine, plopped himself on the swivel chair, and positioned both his legs on top of the desk, his left leg crossing over his right leg.

"Can you even imagine what Lissie will say if she hears of your…ungentlemanly behavior towards a girl like me?" continued Elizabeth. "You'll shame yourself and her if you keep this up."

Ben slapped the magazine on the desk and put both his feet down on the floor, facing Elizabeth while seated almost rigidly in the swivel chair. "Lizzie, you're not dealing with the high-and-mighty English gentlemen," said Ben. "We're rustic, hotheaded colonists, not cosseted gentry from England."

Elizabeth sighed slowly. "You never cease to insult me, Benjamin Davidson," she said.

"That's not true!" retorted Ben. "I cease most of the time." He hid his head behind the magazine. "'Tis not often I get to do something like this, Elizabeth."

"Well," said Elizabeth rather thoughtfully, abandoning her reproachful attitude. "I suppose it was all in good fun…for this time."

Suddenly Felicity barged into the room without ringing the door chime and waiting for a summon. Her entire self was apprehensive and fraught with worry.

"Lissie!" exclaimed Elizabeth anxiously she looked up from her sampler work. "You've nearly scared us out of our wits! Pray, what's the matter?"

"Are you all right, Lissie?" asked Ben.

"What happened to Lissie?" piped up Nan.

Felicity tried to get herself to focus in order to answer their anxious queries. "It's…it's…" she faltered.

"I think you'd better sit down," said Elizabeth. She turned her head to Ben, who was standing stiff like a stick from his seat, and nodded, indicating him to help Felicity. "Ben?" she asked quietly.

Without a word Ben strided greatly to where Felicity was and with his arms around her he quickly ushered her to the end width of his trundle bed, helping her to take her seat. Elizabeth sat next to Felicity's left side, and Ben at her right. Nan and William immediately stopped whatever they were doing and sprinted to where Felicity was seated. It seemed as though Felicity was the center of real attention now.

"What is it, Lissie?" he asked quite urgently, as he put his shoulder around her. "Speak."

"Tell us, please, what is it?" put in Elizabeth, as she took her left hand and pressed it affectionately.

Felicity gulped and cleared her throat, her green eyes dilated with immense fear. "'Tis…'tis about Mr. Riker," she began rather shakily. "I,…um…"

"What did he say?" pressed Elizabeth in a rather motherly manner.

"I heard him say…that he wants to get rid of us," replied Felicity fearfully.

Elizabeth gulped in fright in reaction, shrinking back a little. "I can hardly believe my ears," she said rather worriedly.

"I can hardly believe your _mouth_, Lizzie," retorted Ben as he took his arm off Felicity.

In reaction Elizabeth turned sharply to him. "Ben, _stop_ that," she scolded sharply. She abruptly turned to her friend. "Lissie, tell us exactly what happened," she said to her friend in a tone of voice that was kind but firm.

Felicity gulped again. "I…um…I was…I just happened to come across Mr. Riker…talking with some people in uniform,…discussing about how to get rid of all of us," she continued hesitantly. "_All_ of us."

Ben was now in a rather hesitant and skeptical mood. "Are you _very_ sure?" he asked Felicity. Did you specifically hear Mr. Riker say that he wants to get rid of us."

"Aye," replied Felicity. She braced herself. "I overheard him say that he wants to get rid of us by stuffing us into…'torpedoes'…and launch us into space."

"He doesn't mean that!" gasped Elizabeth in reaction, her right hand over her mouth.

"And how does he intend to go about that?" Ben question Felicity further.

"H-He gave orders for a few of the guys in yellow and red uniform…to stuff us each into a torpedo tube…and launch each of us separately,…scattering us in different directions," blurted Felicity. "And he's ordered them to do that…_while we're asleep_!" The last three words had a rather squeaky, fearful tone.

"But why would they want to separate us?" Ben asked almost to himself. "Why can't they just simply cram us into some kind of vehicle and let us go our way?"

"I…I don't know," said Felicity in a rather hopeless manner. "I overheard him say that we were targets for a relentless enemy. Mayhap that could be the case."

Ben looked at Felicity with a serious face. "You are absolutely sure about all this?" he asked her carefully.

Felicity gulped again and nodded slowly and solemnly. Her friends and siblings looked at her gravely and with deathly silence.

"So what did you do after that?" Elizabeth inquired her friend further.

"I immediately went to Mr…um…Mr. La Forge,…because I needed to see one of the senior officers who could be considered…trustworthy. And…and I told him about our predicament, but…but he didn't seem to believe me. All he said was to see Miss Counselor if I was troubled."

Elizabeth breathed slowly. "Did you do exactly that?" she asked her friend.

"Aye," rejoined Felicity with another grave nod. "I went to see Miss Counselor,…but then the moment I saw her she was unconscious beyond revival. Oh, Elizabeth, I…I simply don't know what's got into here."

"Calm down, Lissie," soothed Elizabeth. "Did you talk with anyone else? The doctor, perhaps? She's trustworthy, too."

Felicity could only nod. "The same, I'm afraid," she replied worriedly.

The children had a moment of pondering silence before Felicity broke it.

"I…I don't know. Perhaps we should just inform one of the crew about this. I know 'tis awfully risky, but…"

"No, Lissie," cautioned Ben firmly, as he got up from his place in the trundle bed and knelt close enough in a manner which allowed him to be face-to-face with Felicity. He put both his hands on each of her shoulders, bowed his head briefly, and looked up to face her. "If Mr. Riker indeed gave such an order, than I don't think there can be anyone else on board this space vessel that we can trust. We can never know who might be in league with Mr. Riker." Standing up, he faced the rest of the children. "We…we seem to have no choice but to take matters into our own hands."

Felicity very much wished that her father were here. Ben, to his mental frustration, took immediate notice of the wrecked personal computer. Then Ben said something briskly to himself, quite audibly, as if he nearly intended whatever he had to say for the children, which said:

"I need a map."

An almost thin, filmy, animated sheeting, which was 2 feet in length and 1½ feet in width was slapped on the desk and spread out like a dining mat. The sheeting had the animated blueprint schematics of a Galaxy class starship, specifically the _Enterprise_. Like what was typically shown on every MSD on board the ship, the map featured the starboard, port, dorsal, ventral, front, and aft layouts; except the difference with the map was it could only show one layout at close-up. The map itself was highly detailed, and for now it was currently generating the starboard side layout, with the selections of the dimensional layouts relegated to the right side of the sheet. For now the bottom area of the right-side-up sheet was facing the back part of the desk, with the top area facing the front part of the desk, where the swivel chair usually stood.

Ben had just got that special map only recently, and as the map was showcased, and the rest of the children gathered around the desk at the back area, their amazement, as typically in the case of every technological amenity, knew no bounds. Nan and William were wide-eyed with wonder as their eyes gazed at the fancy animate decorations that caught their attention. The older girls especially stood amazed as well, though in a rather slight degree in contrast to the amazement of the two little mites.

"'Tis amazing what the future can hold in store," remarked Elizabeth.

"Yes," agreed Ben. "Well, you all had better enjoy this wonderful work of art, because 'tis going to be the last time you'll see it if we plan to make our daring escape from the ship."

Ben tapped a specific area in the map with his right hand index finger, and lo and behold a close-up of Deck 10 sprang into existence with fancy special effects. He pointed his finger very lightly at the map.

"We…are here," said Ben.

"Where?" asked Felicity and Elizabeth.

"Right…here," rejoined Ben, as both he and the girls scanned the minute details and labeling of the schematics. "Room zero-three-one-three. Our current Guest Quarters."

"That's nice," said Elizabeth.

"Now onto the getting off of this ship," Ben pressed on. He perked his head up. "Computer, can you tell us where the weapons storage areas are?" he asked.

"WEAPONS LOCKERS ARE LOCATED ON DECK 4, SECTION 11. ACCESS RESTRICTED TO LEVELS 4 AND ABOVE. LEVEL 4 SECURITY CLEARANCE REQUIRED."

Ben he returned the graphics to normalize the image of the starboard side schematics and tapped on an area where a detailed close-up of the top side of Deck 4 was generated.

"That's where we'll have to go to arm ourselves?"

"That sounds reasonable," concurred Felicity. "We'll never know who might get at us."

"But I…I have never fired a weapon before," put in Elizabeth. "And if there's…'security' in place of those storage places, how will we be able to sneak in?"

"I've got it all figured out," assured Ben. "And if you've never fired a weapon before, you'll have to learn fast."

Felicity looked at Ben. "Now how do we get out?" she asked him.

Ben decided to ask the computer again. "Computer, where is the nearest source of transportation located?"

"SHUTTLEBAY 2. LOCATED ON DECK 13, AFT SECTION."

"What's in there?" Ben asked further.

"A COMPLIMENT OF TWELVE GALILEO-CLASS SHUTTLECRAFT, INCLUDING SEVEN DELTA FLYERS."

"We'll take our choicest pick when we get there," said Ben half-humorously. "Meanwhile," he continued, as he tried to keep himself back on track with the current situation, "We will first get ahold of some weapons from the Deck 4 storage areas."

"And after that?" asked Elizabeth.

"After that…" replied Ben, "We will take the lift to Deck Thirteen, where we will find what they call the 'shuttlebay'."

"But, Ben," Elizabeth pressed further. "Even if we did manage to find the 'shuttle-bay, who will pilot the vehicle? I have doubts that any of us will be able to drive it."

"Or fly it," finished Felicity.

"Will _you_ be able to do it, Lissie?" asked Elizabeth.

"I…um…I think so," said Felicity a little confidently.

"We'll discuss that later," interrupted Ben. "Right now, our best hope is to get off this ship as soon as we can before Mr. Riker can carry out his plot."

"'Tis true," Felicity concurred rather disconsolately. She turned to Ben as she affectionately took his right hand. "Ben, you don't realize how grateful we all are about having you with us," she said sincerely.

"I'll say," Ben put in rather wryly. "Mayhap you girls probably wouldn't know what to do."

Most of the time Felicity would have protested Ben's statement, but for this time she agreed with him on that moment, especially when he was needed most at this time.

"Aye," agreed Felicity in her sincerest manner.

* * *

A/N (1): Ensign Karl Bergen's heavy German accent that is featured in this chapter was derived from my personal experiences with hearing Pavel Chekov from the _Star Trek 2009_ movie, as well as with hearing the influential German cardinal Joseph Ratzinger (now offically Pope Benedict XVI of the Roman Catholic Church. (Of course, Pavel Chekov was Russian, not German. And Ratzinger's German accent is thick whenever he speaks his homilies in the English language.) You'll notice that "Fraulein" was deliberately spelled "Froylein" in a phonetic fashion because most people have the tendency of pronouncing "Fraulein" with the short "a" sound, rather than the long "o" sound, with the letter "o" encompassed by the German umlaut. The rest of the heavy German accents in Ensign Bergen's speeches have their vowels encompassed by special symbols and their words deliberately misspelled (or rather, spelled phonetically). They are intended as pronunciation aids in order to give you an idea as to how Ensign Bergen speaks his German-English.

A/N (2): The animated map that is featured in this chapter had its ideas for the fancy computer graphics derived from those special computerized sheeting from the sci-fi movie _The Red Planet_, as well as from the animated menu sheet from the _Star Trek 2009_ movie.


	36. Chapter 36

_**Star Trek: The Next Generation – Souvenirs**_

**Written By:**_** Commander Cody CC-2224**_

CHAPTER 36

The Deck 10 corridor hall was bustling with a handful of uniformed crew personnel when Felicity, Elizabeth, Ben, Nan, and William surreptitiously stepped out of the Guest Quarters in single file, with Ben leading the way, as well as the entire escape objective. Each of the girls had donned their cloaks. Ben made sure his light blue coat and neckerchief was straightened properly, and his signal whistle in its proper place around his neck, while Felicity made sure that William's coat was straightened, too.

With Ben in the lead the children made their way to the aft part of the deck until they were within spitting distance to the main turbolift. When the lift came within incident-free reach, each of them stepped inside and the automatic sliding doors shut.

"Deck Four," Ben recited rather fluently. A pneumatic rush of air sounded across the lift, followed by a resonant hum as the lift made its ascent toward the designated deck level.

"Remember to act casually, and keep your apprehensiveness in check," warned Ben. "Otherwise the crew can get pretty suspicious of us, and you never know who's in league with Mr. Riker at this moment."

Felicity nodded. "We understand," she rejoined.

Ben turned to Elizabeth. "Elizabeth?" he asked.

Elizabeth nodded a little timidly. _God help us_, she prayed to herself.

After nearly half a minute the turbolift almost abruptly ground to a halt and the sliding doors sprang open. In single file, Ben led his friends out of the lift and into seemingly unfamiliar territory in the Deck 4 corridors.

"I thought Decks Four and Three were not of any interest," said Elizabeth a tad skeptically.

"Who told you that?" inquired Ben.

"Don't you remember?" Elizabeth tried to recall to him. "Miss Counselor told us that."

"Really. Well, if she told _you_ that, there must have been a rather good reason for her to say so."

"Could it be that this particular deck is off limits to most children?" asked Felicity.

"Well…" rejoined Ben rather hesitantly. He didn't want to mention out loud that Deck 4 was where the weapons locker was, for fear of nearby personnel hearing about what they were saying at this very minute.

"This way," called Ben quietly as he and his friends made a right turn to a T-junction.

* * *

Main Bridge, 1105 hours

The Bridge was bustling with activity as usual when Capt. Picard made his semi-formal entrance from the main turbolift. Worf, while manning the security console and being the nearest to the captain, was the first to make his gruff professional greeting.

"Ah, Captain," greeted Worf gruffly and curtly in a rather militaristic manner.

"Mr. Worf," responded Picard as professionally as he could as he briefly stood his ground in a semi-relaxed manner while observing everything on the Bridge.

"How were the negotiations?" inquired Worf.

"They are beginning to show signs of…gradual progress," rejoined Picard rather vaguely.

"Hmm…" put in Worf rather skeptically with a skeptical face. He was immediately interrupted by Data.

"Captain," he began. "I find this curious."

"What now, Mr. Data?" Picard inquired briskly as he motioned over to one of the station monitors on the starboard side of the bridge where Data was. He peered over one of the LCD screens on Data's the console board.

"Internal sensors indicate five human children roaming across Deck 4, grouped together," Data recited fluently. A sensor cam motion image still, which was taken from a video recording, popped from the right bottom area of the computer screen. The left subtitle read in small, bold-faced, thick block letters CAM 04 and a right subtitle in the same font read DECK 04. The bottom subtitle displayed the stardate in the middle of the screen. "Their civilian outfits correspond to late 18th century fashion," Data continued as he clicked a few touch-buttons, thus generating picture IDs of each of the children. He turned his android head to Picard. "I believe it could be our guests, sir," he concurred right away.

Ensign Kevin Bates, alerted looked up from his helm. "Where?" he asked quickly. "Can I see 'em?" he asked quickly, as he slid the console to his left side in a counterclockwise direction and rushed off to the station monitor area where Data was. Keswick followed suit out of immense curiosity, as he shoved his NAV console in a clockwise direction.

Picard immediately turned to Worf? "What's on Deck Four?" he inquired suspiciously.

"Um…mostly living quarters and storage areas, sir," replied Worf, looking half-confused and acting a little as though Picard didn't know his own ship.

"It is also the area where most of the ship's arsenal is currently stockpiled," put in Data.

Picard was tense for a moment. "The weapons locker," he concluded almost stiffly.

"Yes, sir," Worf replied emphatically, giving a militaristically curt and stiff nod.

Picard's mood was seriously pensive as he considered the current alarming situation at hand. Worf could sense it too. So he had in mind a possible suggestion. "Sir, I recommend we raise a Level Ten force field around the entranceways to the weapons locker," he said.

"No," Picard articulated lucidly.

"Sir?"

"Not yet." Picard's voice was brisk. He had fairly founded suspicious that the force field would injure the children; and though he had thoughts of the possibility of them stumbling into the weapons locker, he was hesitant to implement drastic measures unless he had absolute surety of said likelihood. "Keep all deck sensors scanned on our guests," he ordered. "Let me know if something…unusual…has come up. I'll be in my Ready Room." Picard immediately left the bridge and headed to the room.

Both Bates and Keswick had their eyes on Data's station monitor. Bates in particular continued ogling at the grouped picture IDs.

"Wow," forced Bates rather humorously. "They are so cute; they're like little angers. Did you know that?" He lowered a bit as he briskly faced Keswick. "Did you know that?"

"I can see your point about them being…cute," concurred Keswick. "As to whether they are…'angelic'…that remains to be seen. At the present stage they do not fully possess angelic powers in the usual sense of the word…"

"It's a metaphor, Kes," Bates interrupted exasperatedly in a half-humorous manner. "A metaphor. Don't you even know what a metaphor is?"

Bates had a thought that Keswick had an inordinate tendency to take things a little too seriously. Or too literally.

* * *

It was only later that Capt. Picard arrived back on the Enterprise. By that time, the children had already made their destination to the storage areas on Deck 4. All five of them were now staring at a rather imposing entranceway to a certain storage area. On the automatic sliding doors could be seen the professionally crystal clear labeling, WEAPONS LOCKER 04., along with warning signs about security protocols, and information about its appropriate use.

After scanning the wall fairly carefully, Ben noticed a keypad panel studded with touch-buttons that had numbers grouped in their respective orders, along with a thumb-sized touch-button that was labeled UNLOCK. Immediately he sifted briefly through the inside pocket of the left side of his coat and took out a half-foot long toothpaste tube and uncapped it by turning the screw-cap counterclockwise. The older girls were a little confused and dismayed.

"What are you doing?" asked Elizabeth anxiously. Felicity was busy holding Nan's hand as she and her brother and friend watched what Ben was about to do.

"You'll find out pretty soon," answered Ben quickly, who at this point did not want to bother explaining the procedure of trying to unlock the weapons storage closet. The panel was within reach of the height of an average man, which Ben could be well fortunate of, even if he was a tad short of a grown man's height by a foot. Eyeing the outlines of the panel door carefully, Ben gently squeezed the toothpaste tube and slowly but surely applied a toothpaste-like gel around the outlines of the panel door, save for the areas where the panel hinges were located, which Ben could spot with his good eyes and feel with his fingers. Then he capped back the tube, stuffed it into his interior coat pocket, and watched and waited anxiously.

Immediately after a few seconds the cream-like gel started corroding the outlines of the metal panel until the panel opened itself ajar. With all his teenage might Ben pulled out a circular device with a metallic grapple handle on the surface top.

"What _is_ that?" Nan piped up out of curiosity. Ben was too busy to answer her query as he was busy trying to get the sealed sliding doors to open. Stamping the surface of the device on the right side of the door, he turned the device counterclockwise by a 10-degree angle. Amazingly the doors unlocked by themselves, with a fairly loud, hissing pneumatic "ka-chunk". Ben struggled by himself to pry it open and a loud semi-scraping sound followed.

"What did you do?" asked Felicity in bewilderment, unable to restrain her very self.

"Folks said there was a device that allows you to unlock these doors," answered Ben. "I went to what the call the 'LCARS' and managed to get that information."

"What kind?" put in Elizabeth curiously.

Ben sighed in exasperation. "That I don't know," he said quickly.

The device that Ben was able to successfully use was an anti-magnetic release, which was usually resorted to in case of a power failure on board the _Enterprise_. However, due to well-founded fears of unauthorized use, it was usually stowed away in a wall panel near the doorway, which was secured in a niche that could be only be unlocked by a four-digit numerical code. However, Ben was able to bypass that security measure using a type of toothpaste-like gel called a penetration cream tube. He was aware of such a device only in the 24th century magazine of cool-looking devices, and managed to obtain something like that from the Replimat, even though such devices were considered illegal in the Federation. It was thanks to the elderly fellow in the antiques section in the Replimat that he was unaware of how smart he and the rest of the children could be, thinking that they were particularly ignorant of how things worked in the 24th century.

When the secured sliding doors were pried open, Ben immediately set himself to scanning what appeared to be a grooved wall. Immediately spying on what appeared to be a handgrip handle on the top, he immediately pulled it down as hard as he could. The wall now revealed a collection of hand-held Phaser Type 2s and Phaser Type 3s in rifle form. The girls, especially Nan, and William, were utterly astounded, as though they had never seen such futuristic devices in the course of their lives. All weapons were neatly stashed in a foam-like wall that was used for cushioning.

Both Ben and Felicity had a taste on what a Type 2 was like, but the Type 3s were a tad different. The only difference being was that they were rifles, which were as long as a man's arm on average and had two grip handles. But such matters made little difference, given that they needed every weapon they could afford to get their hands on.

Immediately Ben pulled out two of the hand-held phasers, checked cursorily to make sure it was activated and set on stun, and handed them over to Felicity and Elizabeth. Then he pulled out two more of those same phasers, checked them quickly, and hand them to the older girls, wherein they issued one of them to each of the little mites. Next, Ben, being the type for the super-cool, pulled out two of the Type 3 Phasers and handed each of them to the older girls. After that he got one for himself.

"Can I have one of those big guns?" asked William.

"Me, too," put in Nan in a small voice.

"You're too little," was Ben's sole answer in the midst of a hasty arms acquiring.

"Aww," protested William.

Immediately the girls inserted their Type 2s into their pockets and Ben inserted his own hand-held phaser into the left-hand slips of his breeches.

"Now don't tamper with the settings, all of you," Ben warned. "They're all set on stun.

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" asked Felicity. She had some idea as to what the weapons could do, but setting them on stun, she thought, would not knock out an opponent completely when an opponent would be on a killing business. "If they kill us…"

"That's not likely," interrupted Ben. "We're far too valuable. Besides, we don't want to be accused of voluntary manslaughter, and our main objective is to get off this ship." He readied his Type 3. "Let's go," he said finally.

* * *

On the Main Bridge, Worf was alarmed by the security sensors. He immediately tapped his combadge.

"Worf to Picard," he spoke gruffly.

"Go ahead," replied Picard.

"Captain, I am detecting unauthorized access on Deck 4. Internal sensors indicate a security breach in Weapons Locker 2."

In a few seconds Picard emerged from his Ready Room. "Where?" he asked quickly as he made his immediate approach to the security console. Worf readily brought up the animated Deck 4 schematics. The breached area was highlighted in blinking bright red. Worf pointed to the specific spot on the LCD.

"Deck 4, section 11," he informed.

"What's the complement?" Picard inquired, feeling a mite tense.

Worf cleared his throat. "A complement of three phaser rifles and five hand-held phasers were taken out. But all weapons are currently set on stun setting, sir."

Granted all weapons were set on stun in case of a possible Corellian attack, but Picard found himself unable to reassure himself that the five children would do no harm to themselves, as well as the crew personnel and civilians on board. "Even so, the situation can be even more dangerous," he informed Worf seriously. "If our guests tamper with the weapons settings, they can accidentally cause terminal injury to the crew." His face was tense now. "Worf, assemble a security team and intercept them before they can do further damage," he ordered.

"Aye, sir," rejoined Worf. He opened an internal channel on board the ship. "Security detail to Deck 4!" he ordered.

* * *

Ben and the rest of the group were racing through the corridors of Deck 4. Their minds were alert for a possible alarm, and their gaits steady in rhythm. As the eldest Ben was responsible for their well-being. He struggled to keep his mind clear despite the tension and anxiety he was experiencing.

In a few seconds the beeping klaxons sounded, followed by the computer's automated dulcet female voice. Yellow lights on the corridor panels started blinking steadily.

"SECURITY ALERT. REPEAT. SECURITY ALERT."

"Damn!" exclaimed Ben instinctively. He was tenser now, as well as rest of the children. "Hurry! C'mon!" he ordered, as he led the fast-paced way to the main turbolift.

Then came a woman on the P.A. system, which spoke across all internal channels of the ship. In the meanwhile, across all decks, security had been alerted. Crew personnel of all genders, humanoid races, and ethnic backgrounds unlocked all weapons caches, grabbed their phaser rifles and hand phasers, and headed off with great efficiency to track down the five children.

"Attention, all security personnel. This is the Bridge. We have a situation involving the unauthorized use of firearms subsequent to a security breach on Deck 4, Section 11. Suspects are armed and considered extremely dangerous. Suspect 1: White male at 17 years of age. Goes by the name Benjamin Davidson. Suspect 2: White female at 11 years of age: Goes by the name Felicity Merriman…"

"Extremely dangerous, my arse," remarked Felicity tartly in a rather sarcastic manner, as the P.A. kept on blabbing out the names and ages of Elizabeth, Nan, and William in a respective order.

* * *

Worf was eyeing the security scanners very warily. Picard approached him briskly.

"All personnel have been alerted," Worf informed. "Security is converging on their last known position."

"Any luck?" Picard inquired hastily.

"No, sir," Worf rejoined curtly. "They're on the move so fast, it's difficult to triangulate their precise known location."

Picard had hit upon a seemingly brilliant but rather drastic idea. "Cut power to the main turbolift. That should deter them," he ordered immediately.

"Working on it, captain," replied Data as he accessed the security station consoles and performed the procedure. Then he looked at Picard again.

"Cutting off power to the main turbolift may only deter them for a while," informed Data. "By my estimates it is conceivable that the children may find a way to get past the obstruction if their sole intent is to get off Deck 4."

* * *

Meanwhile the children were in the midst of their daring escape. No one else, not even Elizabeth, had time to say anything about Felicity's seemingly unladylike remark because as she and the rest of the group had discovered, much to their frustrated dismay, the turbolift doors wouldn't open.

"Damn it, why won't this work!" Ben vented out in furious frustration. He had difficulty assessing the situation; things weren't going according to plan. The plan was to use the turbolift to get to Deck 13 and get to Shuttlebay 2. However, a power cutoff to the main lift seemed to foil their daring escape plans.

"We'll need to find another way to Deck 13. From what I learned in the schematics, there are some ladders that will lead us to the lower decks of this ship."

"Are you sure?" Elizabeth asked timidly. "It seems you've only glanced at the…'schematics'".

"Just trust me on this one, Lizzie," cut in Ben. He shot a glance at the rest of his comrades."

"I'm scared," put in Nan.

"Me, too," said William.

Ben looked at them seriously and quickly knelt close to them, facing the little mites in the eyes. "We'll find away out of here, little folks," he promised.

"Really?" asked Nan.

Ben nodded cursorily and stood up fast. "All of you keep your fingers on the triggers, shoot anyone that is in our way, and we'll be off this ship in no time," he ordered.

The children continued racing as fast as they could across the corridor. For a brief moment, their way seemed miraculously clear. Then suddenly two middle-aged crewman in yellow uniform appeared across the middle of the hall, armed with a Type 3 phaser.

"Halt! All of you!" the guy on the left side ordered quickly. Without hesitation, Ben and the older girls fired a single beam discharge from their rifles. Ben's phaser beam took out the guy on the right, and the Felicity fired her phaser beam at the other guy, and another discharged was timidly fired by Elizabeth. Both beams immediately knocked out the crewman with stunning results.

"What have we done?" exclaimed Elizabeth, shocked and frightened from her ordeal.

"No time for that!" Ben yelled in frustration. "Come on!"

The group immediately continued their run until they came to a T-junction. Ben raised his right hand, gesturing them to stop in their tracks. Then he leaned over the wall's edge carefully.

Immediately Ben spied a lone guard in yellow uniform guarding a section of the curvy corridor area where a force field was set up, indicated by brightly-lit orange panel lights lined across a width area of the hall. With some sort of finger gesture, Ben told everyone to wait in their places. Then he readied his rifle. Panting a bit, he waited for a few moments, and then made his daring move. He exposed himself, took quick aim, and fired a few discharges from his rifle at the guard until he was stunned unconscious. Then he rushed back to where the rest of the children were waiting nearby.

"Clear," said Ben. Immediately his comrades grouped together and followed his lead. Then they made their move to the area of the stunned guard.

"You could have let me take him out," Felicity said wryly.

"Could have, but I didn't want to lose you," replied Ben. "You're just a bit of a girl to handle such diplomacy." At the sound of that Felicity gave Ben a rather hard elbowing on his elbow as an indication that she didn't like being called "bit of a girl" when she knew, or rather thought, that she was just as capable a young lady as the rest of her friends and siblings.

Elizabeth studied the situation. "There's something across the hall," she said a little nervously, trying to maintain her composure while carrying her rifle. She gulped a bit before she continued. "I…um…I really don't know what it's called, but unless it's out of our way, we're stuck here."

"'Tis a 'force field'", informed Ben, feeling frustrated again. _The last thing we need is more impediments_, Ben thought bitterly to himself.

Elizabeth looked at the conked-out guard and motioned Felicity over. Then she pointed at his combadge and her friend noticed it. Felicity was briefly giving the combadge some thought until Elizabeth whispered a rather helpful hint.

"Try tapping the thing, and give the computer an order," she whispered.

Taking her friend at her word, Felicity immediately did exactly what Elizabeth suggested. After tapping the combadge a little daintily, she uttered quite loudly and quickly, "Computer, disable the 'force field'!"

Much to the amazement of Ben and the rest of his comrades, the force field immediately shut itself off. Immediately he passed through the area of where the impediment used to be without incident. He smiled a bit.

"Hmm. That's strange," he remarked half-humorously. "I guess security is somewhat weak around here."

"Shame," rejoined Felicity in a sarcastic manner. As the group continued their escape, Felicity decided to criticize Ben a little. "See? I'm not a 'bit of a girl'," she said, forming an impish grin in her charming elf-like face.

Ben just simply kept silent and led the way.

* * *

Worf kept scanning the security monitors on his station. Picard tried almost desperately to think through the situation without resorting to seemingly drastic measures.

"Report" Picard ordered.

"Unknown as to the precise location, sir, but the internal sensors indicate a disabling of an erected force field on Deck 4, section 16."

Picard clicked his tongue. "Mr. Data?" he called.

"Worf is correct, sir," replied Data tactlessly. "The children have just bypassed a security force field 7.2 seconds immediately after passing section 15 of Deck 4."

"Where the main turbolift is?"

"That is correct, sir."

"So where are they heading now?"

Data pulled up a sensor cam video of the five children running past an aft corridor on Deck 4, along with the computerized schematics of the entire deck. A tiny red dot indicated their current position.

"Internal sensors now indicate that the children are heading to Section 3, an area near the aft section of Deck 4," he reported.

"What's on the aft section?" Picard inquired further, as he turned to a young lieutenant in blue uniform.

The lieutenant pulled up the same Deck 4 schematics on the console-based LCD and magnified a certain portion of the Deck 4 schematics until a blinking area was highlighted. He looked up at the captain rather tensely.

"Ladders, sir," he replied quite frankly, as if he was certain the children used ladders for their escape.

* * *

Ben and the rest of the children kept climbing down a metallic ladder from Deck 4 and into the bowels of the ship.

"Keep moving!" he ordered, as he struggled to keep a firm grip on the railings and a firm footing on the rungs.

William silently struggled to descend the ladder along with the rest of the children. Nan seemed to have difficulty stepping down the rungs. "I'm scared!" she wailed out.

"Well don't be!" Ben called out. "Just keep a steady pace!"

Elizabeth kept looking down the rather deep, sterile, metallic pit with its systems of ladders and Jeffries Tubes. "This is definitely _not_ exactly what I had in mind," she remarked firmly.

"Why, you thought 'twould be easy?" asked Felicity wryly.

"Nay, but _this_ is rather unexpected for a proper young lady," replied Elizabeth.

* * *

Lt. Commander Data kept his android eyes fixed on the station monitors, and at the same time kept his entire body alert as well. "We will have difficulty sending a tact team to intercept the children, Captain," he informed.

"Then have all personnel stand by," Picard ordered hastily.

All across the ship, armed security personnel on every deck level positioned themselves in various areas on standby in case they were needed for the secondary tactical engagement. The same dulcet female voice communicating from the Bridge on the P.A. blared again.

"Attention, all personnel. Stand by to engage suspects. Repeat. Stand by to engage suspects."

* * *

After reaching the Deck 13 level, Ben was the first to set his foot on the ground. With seemingly little difficulty he set Nan and William on the floor with his strong arms.

"Th-thank you," said Nan gratefully, as Ben put her down on the floor as carefully as he could afford to do during rush hour.

Suddenly a single phaser beam impacted on a wall from a hallway opening, narrowly missing Elizabeth as she set herself on the ground. Instinctively Ben fired back at a yellow-uniformed crewman with his phaser rifle. Felicity fired at another guy in yellow uniform, and Nan followed, using her hand-held phaser. Ben fired another discharge at another crewman.

"C'mon! Let's go!" ordered Ben. Arraying the group together, he ordered them forward, as he and the rest of the children made their rush across a straight corridor hall on Deck 13.

* * *

Worf kept eyeing the security monitors before perking his gruff Klingon head up. "Six personnel reportedly taken out, Captain," he informed.

"Hmm…" rejoined Picard, becoming slightly bothered. "Why so few casualties?" he muttered to himself rather instinctively.

Ensign Kevin Bates was standing near Data, arms akimbo, near the security console on one of the station monitors. "Well, they definitely weren't on a killing spree, that much is for sure," he declared.

"So the children must have some other objective," quipped Lt. Keswick coolly.

"Like what?" retorted Bates. "Running away, or something like that?"

Data kept eyeing his monitor. In a few seconds, a series of three beeps could be heard, which greatly alerted him.

"You may be right, Ensign Bates," he concurred.

"Well, that's damn nice to here," rejoined Bates. "How so?"

"Internal sensors now indicate that the children are currently moving position on Deck 13, Section 9," informed Data in fluent quickness. "According to the Deck 13 schematics, Shuttlebay 2 is located on the aft part of the deck."

Picard was suddenly alerted by the information that Data was giving. "Your implication is that they intend to use one of the shuttlecraft to get off the ship?" he inquired with ominous seriousness.

"That is the implication, sir," rejoined Data.

Picard mused for a moment. "But if our guests from time get off the _Enterprise_, we risk losing the opportunity to correct the timeline. It is crucial we do not let them."

"Well, they're hell-bent on escaping, so the notion of not letting them escape ain't gonna matter," put in Bates. "They'll still do it anyway."

Whether Picard was listening to him or not was another thing. Whichever the case, his mind was still bent on trying to prevent their guests' escape. "Have all security personnel converge on their exact location," he ordered.

"Yes, sir," rejoined Worf quickly before opening an internal channel across the ship. "Security detail to Deck 13!" he ordered gruffly. "And quick!" He immediately exited the Bridge.

* * *

The five children kept rushing past a few curvy and straight corridors. Very soon, they made their hasty approach to a T-junction, which cut into a straight corridor hall, and in turn led to the entranceway of Shuttlebay 2.

"Our destiny awaits us," remarked Ben in a rather sarcastic manner.

Immediately Ben proceeded to jam open the Shuttlebay entrance doors, following the same procedure he used when he broke into the weapons locker. Using his penetration cream tube, he applied it around the grooves of the panel door where the anti-magnetic release storage panel was located on the right side wall relative to the entranceway, save for the area where the hinges were located on the panel door. When the cream fizzled around the grooves and corroded itself in, Ben swung open the panel and pulled out the anti-mag device. Then without hesitation he plugged it into the left side sliding door and turned the device 10 degrees counterclockwise.

But then the doors wouldn't slide. Not one bit. No matter how Ben pushed with all his might, the sliding doors wouldn't budge even an inch.

"Damn!" swore Ben.

Ben steadily came to the realization that if he set his phaser rifle on maximum setting he might be able to blast the seemingly reinforced entrance doors. Immediately he tampered with the phaser settings, and then positioned his rifle from his hip, rather than from his shoulder, steadily aiming it point blank at the doors. Then he fired a single high-energy discharge beam at the door. Immediately after impacting on the grooves, the sliding doors immediately blasted forward a few feet, leaving smoldering debris. The searing heat was enough to generate mild amounts of sweat among the children.

"Yes!" exclaimed Ben in ecstasy, feeling elatedly successful that he was able to blast the dastardly door open. Mopping his sweaty forehead, he prepared to lead the rest of his comrades through the smoldering door wreckage.

But unfortunately his little escape plan took a rather unfortunate turn. Immediately after the blast, a computer-initialized security override system activated.

"BREACH DETECTED. ENGAGING SECONDARY PROTOCOLS."

While the computer was beginning its casually dulcet notice, a heavily reinforced titanium grate instantly slid down with bone-shattering force, followed by a Level 10 force field automatically generating around the grate. Instinctively Ben fired another discharge from his phaser against the obstacle. The phaser blast made a huge ripple across the slightly ethereal force-field, but the blast would not even make a single dent on the grate itself.

Ben got furiously frustrated. "God-dammit!" he yelled, swearing profusely while seething in uncontrollable rage. "High-tech Federation crap!" He banged and struck his rifle furiously at the force-field protected grate, as the strike impacts made ripples across the force field.

While Ben was furiously banging his rifle futilely on the titanium grate, Elizabeth was taking a bit of time to herself on examining the current situation at hand. Felicity, too, was also examining the situation with her friend as well and that the same time, keeping both herself and her friend alert. Suddenly she took alarming notice at a yellow-uniformed crewman skulking in the left hand corner, armed with a Type 3 phaser.

"Ben!" she yelped in a panicky manner.

Instinctively, forgetting that his rifle was set on maximum setting, Ben fired a high-level discharge at the crewman, which narrowly missed him and blasted a portion of a wall near the crewman, which nearly knocked him out. Suddenly three personnel, followed by a security-team leader, immediately shot out stun discharge beams at Ben, which made him crumple to the floor, unconscious. Taking notice of Ben's predicament, she immediately turned to her left side.

"Ben!" she yelped. Felicity knelt over him, trying desperately with all her heart and soul to wake him up during her hour of sheer terror. In a few seconds reinforcements of nine crewpersons of different gender arrived, which were led by another team leader. Immediately he demanded that each of the children drop their phasers and admit surrender.

"I said drop it, young lady!" he yelled across the corridor hall.

In her inherent stubbornness, Felicity dared to resist and make her last stand. It seemed that Southern spirit had completely caught up with her.

"NO!" she yelled defiantly.

Immediately Felicity fired a single low-setting beam from her phaser rifle, which hurt one of the security personnel. Another discharge impacted on the belly area of the team leader. Clutching his abdomen in pain, he ordered his nearest comrade to open fire. An additional two persons were taken out by Nan and William's hand-held phaser firing.

Without sheer hesitation his comrade-in-arms right away fired a low-setting discharge, which impacted on Felicity's stomach area. Instinctively she dropped her phaser involuntarily and clutched her abdomen with all her might, grimacing, as if she was experiencing some sort of severe stomach ache. Another crewman from Team 2 fired at Felicity's chest area, resulting in her having what appeared to be severe chest burn, causing her to impulsively clutch the center of her bosom with both hands, gasping, coughing, and seething in excruciating pain. Then the initial team leader's comrade-in-arms fired another discharge from his Type 3 phaser, which impacted on Felicity's ankles, making her collapse to the ground. On the floor, poor Felicity continued writhing in excruciating pain, wailing pathetically.

In the midst of this agonizing chaos, Elizabeth was too downright terrified; too horrorstruck to do much of anything, as she was not a particularly brave individual as Felicity and Ben were.

In a relative few seconds a third dispatch of reinforcements comprising with a handful of six linked up with both teams and cornered the children like they were cornering a wild and dangerous beast. As guns were aimed directly at them, Elizabeth struggled to help her friend up on her own two feet. Felicity slowly got hold of her Type 3 phaser she dropped when she was hit by one of the security personnel.

"Drop your weapons!" ordered the second team leader.

Both Felicity and Elizabeth steadily faced their aggressors. Elizabeth whispered to her friend to drop the rifle she was holding. Intending to shoot from the hip in a right-handed manner, her aim was on the team leader that gave the second order, her twitchy finger poised on the trigger. She was about to slowly pull it when Elizabeth firmly woke her up from her childhood fantasy of revenge.

"Lissie, No! Don't!" She whispered persistently and forcibly. "You'll just get all of us killed! Or worse…"

Felicity felt as though she had run out of options. If she continued the fight, she risked having her and her friends ending up in an even worse situation than was generally put up with. Ben had already been conked out, Elizabeth had difficulty mustering the necessary courage to continue their objective, and Nan and William had great difficulty fighting back. Furthermore, the children weren't trained adequately with the phaser firearms, nor did they have the training to efficiently take out several enemy combatants. All they could count on was each other, as well as their rather determination to accomplish their objective. But with Ben unavailable, and Felicity finding herself at an impasse, moral among her and her friends evaporated away like water in the desert sands. And suicide was not a morally acceptable option for them. Acknowledging a forlorn nod, she slowly hung her head in an undignified manner, frustrated in the inside, with a natural feeling of shame and resentment in defeat.

So Felicity and Elizabeth slowly crouched, placed their phaser rifles on the floor, and reverently stood up. The same team leader ordered the little mites to drop their hand-held phasers. Both Nan and William, trembling in sheer fright, let loose their firearms in their sweaty grips, and both phasers dropped to the carpeted corridor floor in a seemingly simultaneous manner.

Seconds later Lt. Commander Worf arrived to the scene pronto, accompanied by two security personnel of different genders, with a crewman on his right and a crewwoman on his left.

"The suspects are already in custody, Commander," informed the second team leader.

"Hmm…" he rejoined gruffly.

Soon Worf took notice of the blasted area near the left hand corner wall, which was caused by Ben's high-setting phaser blast. He then came to the possibility of the children using phasers that were set on high setting. But then as he took notice of the fairly injured crew personnel, and seeing no external signs of severe injury, he instead came to the realization that at least one of children were using high-powered phasers. _But who?_ he asked himself mentally.

Without hesitation Worf gave a direct order for the children to be secured in a holding cell in the detention area.

"Take them to the brig," he ordered gruffly.

* * *

Sorry for the delay of this chapter, folks. Even during my "vacation", there was a lot going on, and I was experiencing bouts of "writer's block". It took quite a long while to hammer out this chapter in a fairly interesting manner, like in the manner of John Dillard's movie-based novel _Star Trek: First Contact_. I hope my writing style, as well as the dialogue, and the manner of which the fast-paced incidents are described, are not too cheesy and tripe. For me, action scenes are something which I have a tad difficulty of getting around, and they have to be somewhat described in a manner where the reader will feel as though he's being drawn into a fast-paced environment. Comments about this type of writing style are welcome.

A/N (1): The part where Ben swears "High-tech Federation crap" was derived from Jayne Cobb's quote "High-tech Alliance crap" from the _Firefly_ TV Series. Of course, the term "high-tech" is not one that you would hear people from the colonial period speaking, so it's quite conceivable that Ben must have got that term from reading his magazine of 24th century hi-tech weapons and gadgets that always lies around the Guest Quarters.

A/N (2): Some of the descriptions of the computer systems on board the _Enterprise-D_ featured in the chapter are fairly accurate, and some of them may have been conceived in my overactive imagination. The part describing the generating of images on Data's security console on one of the Main Bridge's station monitors was due to my influence in watching the new _Star Trek (2009)_ movie, where most of the computer graphics on the new _Enterprise_ look like graphics from Apple computer graphics made by the Macintosh Corporation. At the same time, though, I had to have most of my descriptions of fancy computer graphics imagery conform to the standards of the 24th century, and in the Canon of _Star Trek: The Next Generation_.

So what will become of Felicity and her friends and siblings? Will they be tried for what Capt. Picard would consider to be "misdemeanors"? Will they be put on trial? (I can certainly imagine poor Elizabeth being placed in the spotlight; every American Girl fan who has known Elizabeth Cole throughout the Felicity Series (and the Felicity movie) is aware that she is quite averse to being the center of attention, given her rather shy and quiet personality.) The next chapters concerning these topics will be hammered out fairly soon. (Hopefully…)


	37. Chapter 37

_**Star Trek: The Next Generation – Souvenirs**_

**Written By:**_** Commander Cody CC-2224**_

CHAPTER 37

Felicity, Elizabeth, Ben, Nan, and William were all immediately shoved into the central brig in the detention room on Deck 5. Then the force fields were immediately in place as the majority of the security personnel quitted the detention room, leaving two crewmen to guard both sides of the brig entranceway.

Elizabeth, seeing herself as the only able-bodied girl available when the rest of the older children were injured from their recent tussle with the security personnel, slowly struggled to assist a slightly injured and sweaty Felicity to the left side of the brig relative to the entranceway.

"Th-th-th-thank…y-y-you," Felicity said weakly to her best friend, who was helping her take a seat on the left hand side wall. She grimaced involuntarily on account of her physical pangs she felt across her body. Her vision was a little blurred, and she looked almost bleary-eyed. Felicity struggled to pull a conked-out Ben closer to her body, and Elizabeth saw to it that Ben was fully relaxed in Felicity's stead. After that, she tried to administer comfort to frightened Nan and William for her friend's sake.

"Shh-shh-shh-shh-shh," soothed Elizabeth, as she and the little mites sat down on the only cushy bench facing the front opening of the brig, encompassing them under her arms.

* * *

Capt. Picard's Ready Room was just as quiet as ever. Picard himself was seated on his desk, with his hands crossed and his head leaning over the top of his crossed hands, looking pensive and a tad moody as ever. When he was on the Bridge, he was monitoring the progress of the security personnel, but after listening to an audio reception of what exactly was going on during the tussle between the children and the personnel, he impulsively decided to take refuge in his Ready Room. There he could wait for any reports on interception's progress.

As he was musing over his decision to intercept the children, two beeps emanated from the combadge.

"Worf to Picard."

Picard intuitively tapped his combadge. "Go ahead," he answered.

"The children are now in custody," informed Worf. "They are now kept in a holding cell in the detention area."

Picard nodded his head. "Very good, Worf," he rejoined rather grimly. "Picard out."

It would seem that Capt. Picard would at least have a longer period of reflection. However, his moment of musing was interrupted when, a few seconds later, the door chime to his Ready Room rang.

"Come," he called.

The automatic sliding doors slid open smoothly and in entered Counselor Troi in her regular gull gray jumpsuit. After taking her stand at the center of the room, the sliding doors slid themselves shut.

"What is it, Counselor?" Picard asked rather curtly.

Troi cleared her throat. "Captain," she began quite seriously and forcibly, "I think you are being too hard on our guests."

Picard stared the Counselor in the eye. "How so?" he asked briskly in his curt manner.

Troi prepared for her screed. "Our guests can barely make an efficient stand against the _Enterprise_ security personnel," she said. "They have no _weapons_ training, much less on _tactics_, and you're viewing and treating them as though they are dangerous criminals by locking them up in a high-level holding cell!"

Picard shot the Counselor a serious look. "I agree with you on that, Counselor, but you underestimate how intelligent the children are, even for their age," he informed. "You see how they were able to breach a weapons locker and navigate their way through the bowels of the ship in their attempt to locate Shuttlebay 2.

"I _do_ see this, Captain," rejoined Troi, "But my point is, we are not dealing with genetically manipulated Angosian prisoners like Roga Danar!" She gave Picard a serious look. "We…are dealing with ordinary human children. Frightened children who haven't even the slightest trace of physical or psychological conditioning, but will have the disposition to take matters into their own hands if they see that their lives _and_ their interests are being threatened."

Picard mused for a brief moment before heaving a heavy sigh.

"What would you have me do?" he asked.

"Confine them to their quarters until further notice," suggested Troi. "It's the least you can do." She paused. "Or…confine them to a minimum security brig."

"I cannot do that," said Picard rather tactlessly.

"Why not?" retorted Troi with indignation.

"If I just confine the children to their Guest Quarters, or for that matter, a minimum security holding cell, they will no doubt find another way to escape again. We need them in order to rectify the mess that the Corellians have made on Earth's history." He looked the Counselor in the eye. "And we cannot _do_ precisely that without them."

"Earth's history," rejoined Troi in a rather smug manner. "Is that all you care about, Captain?" she replied angrily with her inflection down.

"No, that's not all, Counselor," countered Picard, without snapping into unnecessary rage. "I have…a _duty_ to protect them."

"By what?" the Counselor retorted again. "Confining them to the brig?"

"If necessary."

"Well, I do not see it as necessary!" Troi retorted with similar indignation. "What danger could they be to the rest of the crew?"

Without feeling some kind of shock over Troi's remark, Picard handed her a PADD that comprised a detailed report of the skirmish between the children and the crew. Without second thought, Troi picked it up and browsed through the report.

"If you notice on the bottom of the PADD, it notes that the Davidson boy had fired off a high-energy discharge phaser beam at one of the security personnel, which narrowly missed him and instead impacted and literally blasted a portion of the wall at his proximity, with the explosion knocking him out," Picard informed her.

Troi tossed the PADD down on Picard's desk. "Well, the report also says that most of the children used low-setting phaser beams to deter the personnel during their escape attempt! Does that sound like a murderous spree to you, Captain?" she challenged.

"No, and thank God it isn't" Picard rejoined rather forcibly. He crossed his arms and leaned a little forward. Then he spoke in a lower tone of voice. "We can only be so lucky, Counselor," he said quite seriously. "But our luck will not hold if we throw prudence and caution into the wind. The next time they concoct another escape attempt, they will end up firing that same energy beam that the Davidson boy has just fired during the skirmish, and as a result, end up injuring more of the crew in the process. We cannot risk putting the lives of the rest of the _Enterprise_ crew in further jeopardy."

"But keeping the children on board can put the crew in jeopardy," said Troi. "And besides, all they did was wanted to escape." The captain seemed to be silent on this one before the Counselor spoke again, hoping she could come up with some convincing alternative. "What if…you considered the possibility that the Davidson boy fired that high-energy beam…out of carelessness? Surely, like the rest of the children, he had no intention of…killing anyone? He was just being protective. Is that not the natural instinct of a man when he and his loved ones are threatened?"

Picard gave a rather curt nod. "I share your sympathies on this consideration, Counselor, as all possibilities are being taken into account," he said. "But my decision still stands. They will be confined to a maximum security brig until further notice."

There was a moment of silence before Troi resumed the discussion.

"I cannot understand how you can just simply sit back in your Ready Room desk and be so cold about this," she said disappointingly.

Picard cleared his throat in preparation for his reply. "Counselor, it took nearly fifteen personnel to restrain them."

"But, Captain, they're only children!" Troi cut in right away in dismay.

"I _know_!" Picard burst out in furious frustration. "And as much as I have an irresistible attraction to them, I cannot sacrifice the safety of the crew on their behalf. And at the same time, I cannot let them get away because of Earth's timeline." He was silent for a moment. "I'm in a moral quandary, Counselor. If you cannot help me during this hour of extreme uncertainty, then get out of the Ready Room."

Feeling rather stiffed from Picard's reply, Troi proceeded to exit the Ready Room when Picard interrupted her with a proposition.

"Counselor," he called.

Troi turned around and faced the captain.

"I apologize for my seemingly ungentlemanly conduct," he admitted, before getting on to the matter of importance. "I will order a full scale investigation of the incident and conduct a hearing on the Bridge at 1200 hours sharp. Will that satisfy you?"

"More than ever," the Counselor replied coolly and smoothly.

"Good," rejoined Picard, feeling slightly relieved. "Dismissed."

Troi exited the Ready Room, and the automatic sliding doors closed behind her. Seconds later, Picard picked up the PADD, glancing and reflecting over its contents.

* * *

The central brig was as solemnly quiet as a monastery as the children began their silent gradual recuperation from their recent skirmish with the crew. As the minutes of the day drifted by like clouds on an earthly sky, Felicity seemed to be recovering from the pains she received from those stun discharges that were inflicted on her during the skirmish. Ben's head was resting on Felicity's lap, and Felicity couldn't resist stroking his handsome chocolate-brown mane. Elizabeth decided to recline herself on the bench, with her head to the left side relative to the entranceway, her hands clasped together, and her avid blue eyes staring at the seeming nothingness of the ceiling.

Nan and William decided to take some refuge in their older sister. As Nan took her area near Felicity's left side, William decided to plop himself on Ben's upright lap. Felicity did not seem to mind that for a moment until she became fraught with concern about what it was doing to Ben when William began positioning his little body in a manner that she perceived would make Ben feel rather uncomfortable.

"William, stop it," said Felicity a little weakly. "You're squishing him. Sit up properly." Frowning a bit in resentment, little William decided to plop himself across Ben's lap in an upright position. Felicity only sighed softly.

The slight bump made by William woke Ben a little, prompting him to respond by a tad. Initially he felt kind of dizzy, but his vision cleared up, and his mind partially focused.

"Waaaazzzzuuuup, Lissssie?" said Ben sleepily.

Felicity didn't really know what to do at the moment. Usually it was she who could come up with some fairly practical solutions, but with the condition of her body, as well as one teenager and two little youngsters seeking refuge with her, she felt pretty helpless. So she turned to her best friend, who was reclining pensively on the bench. "Elizabeth?" she called quietly.

Elizabeth slowly and daintily pushed herself up on the bench and got off, stretching herself a bit. Then she arrived to the scene.

"Shh, Ben," she crooned. "You need to rest." She immediately beckoned William off Ben's body, and both she and Felicity carefully took Ben's head off her friend's lap, gently resting his slumbering body near the left hand corner of the brig, near Felicity's right side. Then Elizabeth daintily straightened up Ben's jacked before turning to her exhausted-looking friend.

"How are you, Lissie?" Elizabeth inquired considerately in an almost whispering tone of voice.

Felicity did not seem to be in the mood for talking, but she decided to answer her friend out of courtesy. "I…um…I think I seem…to be feeling…much better,…thank you,…Elizabeth," she answered a little sleepily, grimacing a bit.

"Well, not entirely better, I'm afraid," rejoined Elizabeth softly, as she placed her right hand on Felicity's slightly sweaty forehead.

Felicity did not seem to take kindly to such criticism. "You…are so presumptuous, Elizabeth," she declared. "Whatever happened to your humble personality?"

Elizabeth just simply chuckled to herself. "Well, when I'm with you, I can be a bit of myself," she answered quite understandingly. "Most of the time, when I'm around with people, I just act like a humble, gracious young lady."

Felicity glanced slowly and drowsily at the surroundings of the brig, as well as the armed yellow-uniformed guards stationing both sides of the opening.

"They can't do this to us, Elizabeth," Felicity remarked rather wearily. "They just can't. 'Tis impossible."

"I'm afraid anything is possible in this day and age, Lissie," replied Elizabeth sadly.

Felicity could notice Elizabeth's rather pessimistic tone of voice in a remark that she perceived should be said with great optimism. "You don't seem quite optimistic about your statement, Elizabeth," she observed.

Elizabeth could not help laughing quietly at the sound of Felicity's remark of observance. "I was only speaking of the moral sense, Lissie," she replied. "Not that you care about it much."

"That's not true," retorted Felicity forcibly, despite her weary self. "I still care about it. Otherwise, you would be seeing me as a hussy. And I'm…I'm no hussy…"

With that, Felicity lowered her head and looked at herself downward. She was beginning to feel quite hot and sweaty. Again she looked up to her best friend for assistance.

"Can you help me take off my clothes, Elizabeth?" she asked somnolently. "I'm very…I'm very hot."

Nan immediately perked her little head up, her flowing auburn hair which peeked out of her little mobcap swinging playfully a little. "Lissie! You don't mean that!" she exclaimed in dismay. "'Tis most improper for a gentlewoman to be seen without her clothes!"

The security guard on the right side of the brig opening burst into a fit of muffled guffaws. William started snickering to himself, too, on account of Felicity's unseemly idea.

Elizabeth looked at her friend solemnly. "Your younger sister is right, Lissie," she said. "'Twould _be_ most improper."

Felicity scoffed in exasperation. "Oh, don't be such a prissy, Elizabeth," she said tetchily. "Would you rather have your dear best friend die of this most dreadful heatstroke? Just ease my pain once in a while. Please?"

Ben stirred a little from his slumber. "I heard that," he said sleepily.

Felicity turned her head to Ben in exasperation. "What now, Benjamin Davidson?" she asked crabbily.

Ben put himself in a half-upright manner with the support of his elbows on the floor; his eyes squinted as he faced Felicity. "D-Don't…don't you remember?" he asked. "Those magazines…featuring the undraped form of the human female…?" He paused in between. "You…you've been making rather rude complaints to me about…about me looking at them. Don't tell me you're a hyp…hyp…hyp…" His voice trailing off, Ben exhaled forcibly as he plopped himself upright on the floor and drifted off into deep slumber.

Felicity knew what Ben was about to say concerning the word "hypocrite", but was rather averse to speaking her thoughts on the matter out loud for her friends and siblings to hear.

Felicity drooped her head at Ben. "Then I suggest you resist looking at me, Ben," she said simply, as she softly patted Ben on the head before turning to Elizabeth with a pathetically pleading look in her redheaded face. "Will you help me, Elizabeth?" she said in exhaustive exasperation. "Pretty please?"

Though quite understanding of her best friend's hot and sweaty state, she sighed quietly before making her affirmative reply in a rather uncertain manner. "All right, Lissie," she said softly. "I'll help you, but please do be sure to cover your front."

Felicity removed her mobcap and threw it to the other end of the brig as Elizabeth helped her out of her yellow cream-colored gown. Then she unlaced her stays and helped her out of her petticoats. Finally, Elizabeth assisted her friend out of her shift before carefully taking off Felicity's shows and stockings, save for her garters. After most of her clothes were taken off, Felicity did whatever she could to cover her naked front as she pressed her gown close to her body, as she thought to herself what a great relief it was to be out of all that clothing for the time being.

* * *

A/N (1): I tried to be as fairly accurate as I could as regards to Counselor Troi's philanthropic discussions with Capt. Picard about Felicity and her friends and siblings.

A/N (2): The Angosian prisoner Roga Danar was a genetically manipulated entity who was intended to be utilized by the Angosian government as a genetically enhanced warrior. (Star Trek TNG Episode _The Hunted_.)


	38. Chapter 38

_**Star Trek: The Next Generation – Souvenirs**_

**Written By:**_** Commander Cody CC-2224**_

CHAPTER 38

_U. S. S. Enterprise_ (NCC-1701-D)

Main Bridge

1200 hours

A semi-formal hearing was now in commencement on the Main Bridge. The Bridge itself was cleared of most of its personnel, leaving a majority of the senior officers, who were at the rear end, and the five children, who were at the very front. The helm and NAV consoles were swung open for easy access between the personnel and the children themselves.

Most of the senior officers were gathered, as well as some curious minor crewmembers, most notably Lt. Keswick and Ensign Kevin Bates, who were behind Worf, who in turn was stationed at the security console. Riker was seated on his commanding officer's chair, which was on the right side of the captain's chair, and Troi was seated on the counselor's chair, which was on the left next to the captain's chair as well. The only senior officers absent from the Bridge were Dr. Crusher and Chief Engineer La Forge. Capt. Picard, on the other hand, was on his way to the Main Bridge.

At the very front of the bridge were the five colonial children, seated in their respective orders on light gray folding chairs brought from the Replimat. Nearest the front of the view-screen were Nan, Elizabeth, and William in their respective seating positions, with Nan at Elizabeth's right side and William at Elizabeth's left, thus leaving Elizabeth herself at the center next to the view-screen itself. In front of the trio were both Felicity and Ben, with Felicity seated on a chair very next in rank and file to where Ben was seated.

In a few minutes, after everyone seemed to be fairly settled, Capt. Picard made his entrance to the Bridge. He still maintained the same serious look as he usually did during his tenure as captain of the _Enterprise_. Riker, as somewhat of a master of ceremonies, led the nuances of the initial observances of every Federation-based court hearing.

"All rise," he announced briskly, his inflection making its ascent.

The senior officers immediately stood up straight as sticks as Picard made his formal entry to the center of the Main Bridge. He shot a seriously curious look at the children first, where Felicity, Elizabeth, Nan, and William were the only ones standing up in fair attention. Picard made a bit of a face at the peculiarity of Ben not standing up, as was his usual rebellious attitude, but he never bothered to do much of anything about it, as there were other more important matters at hand to discuss at the hearing. He then faced the senior officers.

"At ease," he boomed.

The officers immediately took their usual seating, as Picard fluently took his seat in the captain's chair. While seated, he turned left his head to a middle-aged Negro crewman in yellow uniform, as a signal that he should open the hearing with the taking of an oath to speak the truth. The man immediately stood up.

"Mr. Davidson, please stand up and raise your hand," he commanded.

Ben slowly stood up from his seat rather awkwardly. "Which one?" he asked.

"Whichever you feel fairly comfortable with," rejoined the crewman.

Naturally Ben rose up his right hand, since he was by all means a right-hander. His arm was raised in the form of a 90 degree angle. The crewman resumed the procedure.

"Do you swear before the jury that you will speak the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?"

Ben could not help but feel cautious as to what he was going to say. This was the very first time he was in a courtroom-like hearing. He swallowed before he spoke a word.

"Um…aye, sir," Ben uttered in his usual awkwardness. He felt as if roles between white men and black men had taken a rather drastic shift in roles when it came to a hearing such as this.

"So help you God?" continued the crewman.

With his hand still raised in the same position, Ben couldn't help but feel rather skeptical of the procedure, as well as the content of the oath, since he could only recall what took place before his eyes, and he anticipated strongly that he would never find the right words to explain the happenings of the skirmish itself. "Why, is that what I'm supposed to say?" he asked rather skeptically. "I mean…um…I'm not entirely sure if…"

"Yes, Mr. Davidson," cut in the crewman seriously. Almost immediately it dawned on Ben that the Negro was sort of no-nonsense. He heaved a rather unenthusiastic sigh and declared slowly and surely, "So help me God."

The Negroid crewman made a curt nod and took his seat. Picard launched the initial stages of the hearing by signaling a young Vulcan in his early 30s to begin the interrogations.

"Mr. Sumok, begin the proceedings," he commanded.

Felicity was a tad frightened about the whole affair, but not nearly as frightened as Elizabeth was. At the background, near the very front of the Main Bridge view-screen, Elizabeth struggled to maintain her composure. Little William whispered a remark that was very much intended for Elizabeth to hear.

"What a weird name," remarked William. "Don't you think, Elizabeth?" Elizabeth only gave a rather nervous nod.

The Vulcan took up his PADD from the left-hand edge of the security console and began his formal accusation and analysis in his usually cool calmness typical for a Vulcan life form.

"Mr. Benjamin Davidson," he began, "You have been hereby accused of using an unauthorized brand of penetration cream to gain unauthorized access to Weapons Locker 2, Deck 4, Section 11, making off with three phaser rifles and five hand-held phasers. In addition to said charges, you have been accused of attempting to gain unauthorized entry to Shuttlebay 2, thereby leading to a possible conclusion that you and your party of four, including yourself, were going to make off with a shuttlecraft."

The Vulcan casually put down his hand holding the PADD as he faced Ben coolly.

"Do you accept responsibility for said actions committed approximately 1127 hours during the skirmish you and the rest of your comrades-in-arms had with the security personnel?"

Ben faced the young Vulcan rather skeptically. "Excuse me?" he asked suspiciously, his inflection going up.

The Vulcan just kept to his cooln3ss. "Do you accept responsibility for what you and your comrades did during the skirmish between you and the personnel on board the _Enterprise_?"

Ben was silent for a moment. He swallowed a bit before he uttered his verbal reply.

"I do, sir," he replied frankly and honestly as he ever could. The Vulcan quickly glanced at his PADD before staring Ben in the face again.

"Do you admit that you and your party collaborated with each other to make an escape attempt from the ship?" he queried.

"Well, yes," rejoined Ben almost right away.

"Then perhaps you can enlighten the rest of the jury as to what gave you the sudden impetus to concoct a daring escape from the _Enterprise_," said the Vulcan right away coolly.

"Are you saying that our escape from this ship, the _Enterprise_, as you call it, was a criminal act?"

"We are only interested in the truth, Mr. Davidson. Nothing more."

Ben heaved a rather wry sigh over the reply. "Very well," he said, as he began mulling over his recollections, trying to come up with whatever reason for the weapons locker raid and escape attempt.

"Our escape attempt from the ship…was largely due to fears about Mr. Riker getting rid of us," he began. Ben felt that he didn't have the time to go into detailed explanations about precisely what Mr. Riker was up to, so this was pretty much his summarized answer.

"I would caution you, Mr. Davidson, about bringing up a circumstantial accusation against Commander Riker," warned the Vulcan composedly.

"Well, that's how we saw it," Ben pressed further, feeling quite annoyed about being cautioned against accusatory remarks to senior officers. "And because of that, and given that Felicity's fears were quite…convincing, we decided not to give Mr. Riker that chance."

Ben noticed that the captain was frowning at him rather suspiciously. "…Assuming, of course, that Mr. Riker _was_ involved in such a plot," he added carefully.

The Vulcan mulled over his PADD again. "Do you have fairly convincing evidence to support your claims that Commander Riker was behind this weapons locker raid and said escape attempt?"

Ben sighed. Felicity turned her head to her right and glanced at Elizabeth. Elizabeth gulped fearfully, and Felicity followed suit a bit, as both the older girls awaited Ben's seemingly fateful reply.

"I…um…," began Ben. He paused for a moment to recollect his thoughts, and then continued his reply in a tone of voice that hinted great uncertainty. "I have _some_ evidence." He paused again. "But I'm afraid that most of it lies with my second-in-command, Miss Felicity Merriman."

Felicity couldn't help letting out a muffled giggle over the idea of her being Ben's second-in-command. To her, such a thing would have been unheard of back in her time, as girls weren't normally expected to participate in the activities of most boys. But somehow she suppressed it and continued facing Ben with anxiety because the situation of the hearing was somewhat serious. Elizabeth, Nan, and William took notice of Felicity's behavior, too, and so did Capt. Picard. The Vulcan, however, was rather skeptical in his observance of Felicity that he perceived from the bottom of his mind as…unusual.

"She overheard Mr. Riker discussing with some…crewmen in uniform…about him stuffing us into…'torpedoes'…and scattering us across the vastness of space." He gave Mr. Riker a rather suspicious look, but Mr. Riker looked at Ben rather quizzically. The Negro crewman mentally stepped into the scene and politely challenged Ben's assertion in a rather professional manner.

"Is that exactly what the Merriman girl said to you?" the crewman inquired, his inflection making its descent.

Ben was a tad skeptical. "Well,…um,…she might have said it a little differently,…but…"

"Be careful, Mr. Davidson," warned the crewman. "You're under oath."

Ben gave his answer another thought. His mind whirred through recollection upon recollection of the minutes prior to the skirmish.

"Aye, sir," he replied. "It is…exactly how she said it. And…it convinced me in a manner that I felt I had no choice at hand but to take her at her word."

"But if such was the case, couldn't you take it up with any of the crew?"

"From what Felicity told me, it seemed that none of the crewmen on board the ship could be trusted, since they seemed to be in league wit the plot. Who knows? I mean…we couldn't just simply sit by while the plotters took unfair advantage of us." Ben shot serious glances around the jury. "If anyone of you felt the same way Felicity did, you would understand."

Been glanced at Felicity, and Felicity looked back, forming a small smile on her face mixed with demure seriousness. The Vulcan decided to delve into matters on gaining access to Shuttlebay 2.

"Do you know why you were unable to access Shuttlebay 2?" asked the Vulcan.

"I wish I knew," Ben replied rather wryly.

The Vulcan scanned his PADD before looking up at him again in a cool fashion.

"You forgot to take into account a control booth on Deck 11, which remotely engages and disengages security to the entranceway on Deck 13. Fortunately you weren't intelligent enough to figure that little factoid out."

Felicity glowered at the Vulcan. His statement implied that Ben was somewhat stupid, and she didn't take kindly to anyone making implications of stupidity about her and her friends. _How can he say this!_ she thought to herself rather bitterly. _Shame on him!_

Indifferent to Felicity's indignant scowl, the Vulcan glanced cursorily over his PADD before he perked his head up. "I propose that we hear from the redheaded human female," he announced coolly.

"Miss Merriman, you mean?" corrected Ben. He felt a tad miffed over the very idea of the Vulcan calling her that term, as if the Vulcan himself lacked respect for her dignity; that is, from his point of view.

The Vulcan shrugged lightly. "Miss…Merriman, please come up to the floor.

Felicity perked her head up, looking a little confused…and angry with the Vulcan at the same time. "I beg your pardon?" she said.

"You have been officially summoned to the floor," replied the Vulcan calmly.

"You forgot to say, 'please'," put in Ben.

The Vulcan just kept silent. The Negro crewman intervened on his very behalf.

"Miss Merriman, you will do what he says," he commanded.

Scowling and biting her lip bitterly like a rebel child, Felicity pushed herself up from the folding chair in a rather unladylike manner and stomped over to the center of the Main Bridge where Ben was currently standing. She heaved a cross sigh.

The crewman turned his face to Ben. "You may sit down, Mr. Davidson," he said.

"Oh, thank heaven," Ben rejoined sarcastically, as he plopped on his seat and shot furtive, casual glances across the room, especially at Elizabeth and the little mites at the back of his seat, near the view-screen.

The crewman began the procedures of oath-taking. "Do you swear before the jury that you will speak the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?" he asked almost tiredly.

"Aye, sir," Felicity replied almost fluently and a tad confidently. Outside she felt brave, but inside her heart pounded a little, as if it was a fine mixture of both anxiety and audacity.

Picard nodded to the Vulcan, giving him the signal to resume the proceedings of the hearing.

"Miss Felicity Merriman," he began, "As the individual responsible for the claims against Commander William T. Riker, you are here to testify to said claims. Please begin your testimony."

Felicity could observe the jury awaiting her fated replies. The Vulcan fished out a tablet pen, preparing to record her reply on his PADD. A blonde crewwoman in yellow uniform, acting as a court reporter, was also readying her PADD as well. Twitching her fingers while her hands were clasped out of slight nervousness, Felicity forced herself to recall the happenings of the skirmish.

"Well, I…um…," began Felicity a little nervously. It was her first time she tried to give an account of a happening she was involved in, especially in a hearing, and it was not often done with women and girls in her time. "I was walking around the deck where the Guest Quarters were, when I came upon a discussion that was taking place in an open room," she said, enunciating her words a little carefully. "Out of curiosity, I decided to check it out."

Riker looked at Felicity gravely and suspiciously. Being a First Officer, he had to protect his reputation, since his career sort of depended on it. "Wait a minute," he said charily, trying to get every single word out of her. "You were…curious?"

Felicity nodded a serious nod. "Aye, sir," she said in a small voice.

Meanwhile Ensign Bates was whispering something over to Keswick, who was standing beside him on Bates' left side. "What a nosy!" he whispered.

Though the accusation was somewhat serious, the idea that an 11-year-old could just suddenly come up with an accusation like that as if it was out of the mouth of babes made Riker chuckle somewhat involuntarily. Felicity continued casting demurely serious looks at him, as if she was somewhat accusing him for all the misery he had caused her. Assuming of course it was he who was behind the initial moments of the skirmish.

"Continue with the testimony, Miss Merriman," said the Vulcan.

Felicity took a deep breath before she resumed her reply. "…And when I was…eavesdropping,…I overheard Mr. Riker say…something to the effect…that he wanted to…stuff us into "torpedoes" and scatter us across space."

Silence encompassed the Main Bridge as the jury stared at her in some sort of disbelief.

"As the one responsible for this claim," put in the Negro crewman, "Didn't it ever occur with you to take the matter up with a higher authority, specifically the captain of the vessel?"

Data's android body immediately switched itself to alert mode. "That would not have been possible," he put in quickly. "At approximately 1057 hours, the captain and I were on board the Corellian Battle Cruiser _K'Mar_, facilitating further stages of diplomacy with the Corellians."

"Oh," replied the Negro rather tactlessly as he turned to Felicity in a rather superior manner, which made her think that the world turned somewhat upside down, given the vice-versa change in roles from her time to the 24th century. "Then didn't it also occur to you to take up your issue with any of the crewmen on board?"

Felicity shook her head. "No," she uttered.

The Negro crewman looked her skeptically and suspiciously. "Hmm…"

Felicity decided to press her point further. "But I _did_ try Mr. La Forge," she said. "And he didn't believe me. Not on bit."

"Perhaps your story was tad preposterous," the Vulcan put in.

Felicity scowled it him for what she perceived as a rather tactless remark about her testimony. The Vulcan only widened his eyes, wondering what sort of behavior the redhead was exhibiting. Felicity breathed a cross sigh before resuming her response.

"Well, he did…sort of believe me," she continued, trying to put angry feelings for the Vulcan for the time being, "And he said he would check it out later,…if he was not to busy with his work."

"Why did you decid to go to him first?" queried the crewman with his inflection down.

Because he was…one of the senior officers," rejoined Felicity with indignant seriousness. "Because he was trustworthy." Both her replies had their inflections ascending, save for the latter. "But there were others," she pressed on. "I did take into consideration…Miss Counselor…and the good Doctor," she finished with slight uncertainty in her tone of voice.

"Did you manage to get them?"

Felicity shook her head. "Nay," she replied in a small voice.

"Well, then, what happened to them?"

Felicity gulped a bit. "They were…knocked out," she responded.

"Unconscious, you mean?" put in Data.

"'Tis however you say it, Mr. Data," said Felicity a little meekly. "But a word by any other name is still a word."

"Impressive Shakespeare, that one," commented Bates in a whispering tone of voice to Lt. Keswick. The Negro crewman, seeming slightly indifferent to Felicity's derivative to Shakespeare, resumed his interrogation.

"Could there not have been other senior officers and lower-ranking crewmen that you could have taken up your issue with?" he pressed on.

"No, sir," replied Felicity.

"There was Lt. Cmdr. Worf, whom it's likely you omitted from your list of trusted personnel," the crewman put in.

Felicity was silent. _Worf?_ she asked herself in mental bewilderment. _How could I not? But then…_

"Did you not consider taking up your paranoid matter with Lt. Cmdr. Worf?" the Vulcan pressed on.

Rather than answering the question, all thoughts about Worf aside, Felicity scowled at him again and berated him for what she thought was an implication that her fears were crazy. Unable to restrain herself, she retorted angrily, "Paranoid matter? How dare you!"

The Bridge was steeped in silence, as Felicity defiantly challenged her onlookers. Ben gave a rather wry shrug. Elizabeth in a state of shock at her friend's behavior had her right hand on her mouth, naturally dismayed a bit by Felicity's unorthodox actions on the Bridge, and at the same time, fears for her friend, too. Anger boiled inside Felicity. From her point of view the Vulcan's statement implied that she was…crazy. She knew she was not. Felicity decided to berate the Vulcan for his tactless statement.

"How can you say such a thing like this to me?" she scolded quite loudly to him, her emerald-green eyes blazing with fury that matched her natural reddish-auburn hair. "You know full well I overheard Mr. Riker…"

"You'll have to take into account the matter that it may have been someone who appeared as Mr. Riker," interrupted the Negro crewman even louder.

Felicity heaved a sigh of exasperation. "Just what exactly do you mean, _sir_?" she asked rather crabbily.

"For all you know, it may _not_ have been Mr. Riker saying what you claim to interpret as 'getting rid of you'," added the crewman.

Felicity was beginning to feel a mite tetchy. "So you're saying that the Mr. Riker I was overhearing was _not_ Mr. Riker?" she spat.

"Quite possibly."

Felicity took a deep breath before she began her next outburst. "Fine!" she spat again with great force as her eleven-year-old body could afford it. "The point is, I overheard _someone_ discussing with other members of the ship's crew about how to get _rid_ of us while we're fast asleep!"

Silence overran the bridge again before the Vulcan made his comment on Felicity's seemingly unorthodox behavior that seemed quite unorthodox to him.

"So it is true that humans tend to irrationally unleash their emotions at the slightest whim," he remarked coolly. The human female with red hair has just demonstrated it for us through her outbursts..

The Negro crewman shrugged, as he was anxious to continue on getting to the current matter on hand. "Precisely _why_ would Mr. Riker want to get rid of you in the first place, if that is what you claim?" he pressed on.

Felicity tried to answer as best as she could, swallowing a bit before she spoke her word in order to cool her hotheaded self down a bit. "I…um…I heard…that the reason why he…or _someone_," she emphasized on the last word. "…However you call him…wants to get rid of us…" She lowered her tone of voice. "…Is because…well,…um…"

Felicity's voice trailed off as the incident flashed into her whirring mind, as Commander Riker's fearful words echoed in its depths. _They're targets of a relentless enemy…They have to be dumped…And soon…"_

Felicity swallowed again in order to force herself to concentrate. "Mr. Riker,…" she began, as she cast blatant glances at the jury onlookers, "…Or _someone_…said that we had to be gotten rid of because we were targets…of a 'relentless enemy'," she finished. "So _there_! Does that…_satisfy_ you?" She abruptly exhaled as she rolled her fists into balls.

His right fingers near the area of his mouth, Picard skeptically and furtively muttered something to his very self. "Targets…of a relentless enemy…" he mused quietly. He raised his voice as he turned to the Vulcan. "Mr. Sumok, note that in the minutes," he demanded.

The Vulcan fished out a PADD tablet pen and took down the records in a jiffy. Picard faced Felicity squarely in the eye.

"Specifically what kind of 'relentless enemy' are you talking about?" he inquired. Based on his discussion with Capt. Viss on board the _K'Mar_, he would have naturally assumed it was the Borg, but he wanted absolute sureness as to what Felicity would have encountered from her experiences.

"I…" began Felicity, her voice trailing off. "I really don't know,…Captain. That was all I heard from the discussion. Nothing more."

Silence encompassed the room again before Data stepped into the scene. "Captain, allow me to speak on behalf of Miss Merriman's defense," he said coolly.

"Go on," said Picard.

Data jerked his head a little. "It is theoretically possible that Miss Merriman could be making allusions to her experiences in an event involving a Borg takeover of the Corellian Science Vessel _K'Tan_," he babbled, as he turned to face Felicity. "Would I be correct in presuming this hypothesis, Miss Merriman?"

Felicity nodded, finding herself almost unable to process Data's mild technical jargon, and surprised at how Data was able to get to the matter she had in mind because she forlornly thought that no one else would know what on earth she was talking about in the first place. It was fairly presumable that Data gained such knowledge while he was Picard on the _K'Mar_, at around the time when Felicity and her friends and siblings were involved in the skirmish with the crew personnel.

"Enlighten me as to what you're implying, Mr. Data," ordered Picard in a skeptical tone of voice.

"According to the memory logs, at approximately 1101 hours, on stardate 48367.2, the _K'Tan_ was intercepted by two Borg vessels while she was traveling at a maximum warp with a higher capability than that of the _Enterprise_. During the initial stages of the brief skirmish between the _K'Tan_ and the Borg, the Borg compromised the vessel's warp engines and began boarding the ship as soon as they were within a 920.7-meter range. This in turn led to the human children being hurriedly evacuated from the _K'Tan_, approximately 4.3 seconds prior to the activation of its self-destruct systems."

It was the Negroid crewman's turn to speak his piece. "That sure as hell is an interesting story, Mr. Data," he observed with semi-fascination. "So you're basically stating that the Borg managed to find a way to intercept the children while they were on board that particular alien vessel?"

"That is correct, sir," rejoined Data coolly and emotionlessly.

The Vulcan looked at the trio of Picard, Data, and the yellow-uniformed African-American in yellow uniform. "Shall I note that particular incident in the log?"

"Go ahead," replied Picard.

Scribbling on his PADD with his tablet pen, the Vulcan wrote down the particulars of the _K'Tan_ incident that Data had just described in fair detail. After that, he decided to ask Felicity some questions regarding her knowledge on how she was ale to disengage the force field on Deck 4 during the initial stages of the skirmish with the personnel.

"I do have one intriguing question to ask you, though," he said to Felicity. "How did you manage to figure out how to disengage the force field on Deck 4, shortly before you and your comrades evacuated the deck?"

Felicity stared it him. "Pray, what are you talking about?" she inquired rather cautiously. She had a gut feeling that the Vulcan was trying to pry incriminating information about her and her deeds during the skirmish.

"Perhaps I should rephrase the question," said the Vulcan coolly. "How were you able to bring down the security force field on Deck 4?"

Felicity heaved a wry sigh. "My best friend Elizabeth seemed to have figured it out," she replied. "I merely followed her suggestion."

"I see," put in the Vulcan in a casual tone of voice, his inflection descending. He mulled over his PADD before uttering his personal verdict. "It seems…that the human female child's logic is sound," he said sort of finally.

"Well, that's a relief," declared Felicity, sighing in near exasperation.

The Vulcan was not finished…yet. "However, unless investigated further, Miss Merriman's evidence…will simply be circumstantial in its entirety."

"Then perhaps we need to expound on Miss Merriman's fearfulness and distrust with the _Enterprise_ crew, now, do we," put in Picard. He immediately turned his head to face his trusty android crewman. "Mr. Data, any witnesses regarding the exact time prior to the skirmish?"

"I happen to know of one, sir," replied Data.

"The send him in," Picard ordered in a curt manner.

Data jerked his head sideways a little. "As you wish, Captain," he replied in an emotionless tone of voice.


	39. Chapter 39

_**Star Trek: The Next Generation – Souvenirs**_

**Written By:**_** Commander Cody CC-2224**_

CHAPTER 39

The incident of Felicity's apprehension and running in the Deck 10 corridor was mainly brought up by an unlikely witness: the very same ensign who was trying to help Felicity when she tripped on the floor. Ensign Karl Bergen was immediately summoned to the Main Bridge during the hearing as a witness prior to the events of the skirmish. As usual, the Negroid crewman began his usual interrogation procedures.

"Do you swear before the jury that you will speak the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?" he asked almost tiredly.

"Yä," replied the young Germanic ensign.

As was his habit, the Vulcan kept mulling over his PADD before he spoke his pieces.

"Mr. Bergen," he began coolly, "It so happens that you are the last witness to the events that took place prior to the skirmish."

"Vhät dü yü meen?" inquired Bergeb.

Data decided to elaborate the question for the Vulcan. "Internal sensors on Deck 10 spotted you assisting Miss Merriman when she tripped on her dress," he stated fluently in his own android calm.

"My _gown_," corrected Felicity forcefully.

"Her gown," Data corrected himself before he turned his android head to face Bergen.

"Vell," Bergen began, his inflection going down. "…Um…" his inflection rose, as he continued his reply in his extraordinarily thick Germanic accent and almost awkward English phrasings. "Ī vas goīng ön my usual vay fröm ze crew kwarters ön…Deck Ten…vhen strānjly enäff,…I nöteest ä leetle gürl vehreeng…söm kīnd öf cös-chüm…zät I _svere_…väs fröm āteenth-sen-chüry fashön."

"Would this be the one?" asked the crewman, pointing his right hand index finger at Felicity. Following where the crewman's finger was pointing, Bergen's blue-gray eyes darted back and forth before he took a very good and close look at the redhead in a fairly studious manner.

Yä," he replied, as he turned to face the jury. "I söw hër…öll föllen…een…ä heep, and out öf sheer jenerösity I offerd tü _help_ her."

"And did she accept your offer?" queried the crewman.

Bergen gulped a little hesitantly. "Vell,…üm…nöt reelly. Shee väs kīnd öf…ständ-offeesh,…eef yü äsk me. Eet soundeed äs zöugh…shee väs…äpprehenseef äbout söm-theeng…zöugh Ī knöw nöt vhat."

So what did she do?" inquired the crewman further.

"She…um…vell..um…" Bergen replied with great hesitancy and stuttering. "Äfter zhänking me…för her öffer,…en sāying zät shee väs…'deeseenclīnd tü ak-sept eet',…I told her zät…eef shee häd kwes-chiöns,…tü jest fīnd me een ze Eengeneereeng Sec-shiön." He paused for a second. "She greeted me,…'_güten täg_,'…end ve böth…um…pärted cömpany."

A one-second silence hovered the Bridge, which got almost everyone thinking over what the German ensign had to say for his testimony. When nothing further could be recalled, the Negro crewman decided to make sure that something at least _could_ be recalled, if ever.

"Is that all to your testimony?" he asked.

"Yä," replied Bergen. "Um…Zät ees öll…Ī cän…recöll." The latter phrasing almost rhymed in terms of assonance.

"The witness is excused," announced Picard.

Without another thick-accented word Ensign Bergen quitted the Main Bridge as he made his exeunt to the main turbolift. Seconds later, Picard decided to call up the next witness among the five children.

"I suggest…that we hear from Miss Elizabeth Cole herself," he announced in a rather serious tone of voice.

This was sort of the signal for Elizabeth to be called on the floor to testify from her own point of view. As Elizabeth gracefully got up from her folding seat between Nan and William, Felicity sprang up from her own seat as well in order to be with her during her shy hour. But the captain began to not only show disapproval in the look of his face, he disapproved wholeheartedly, as he was somewhat concerned that Elizabeth's responses to his queries would be somewhat biased if Felicity tried to give her help.

"Captain, please!" Felicity pleaded in dismay and semi-anguish. "Elizabeth is quite shy, and is not a very brave person! I beg of you, please let me be with her!"

Picard looked Felicity with a serious, cold look, which was almost enough to make poor Elizabeth cower back by a few mere inches like a little five-year-old girl, even though she was eleven years of age, as Felicity was. "You will _take_ your seat, Miss Merriman," he said coldly.

Felicity shot back a rather rude scowl at the captain in reaction. She changed her demeanor as she looked at her friend sadly and anxiously, giving her friend's left hand an affectionate squeeze. As Felicity took her seat near Ben's left right side, Elizabeth daintily and timidly stepped forward from where her seat was, briefly giving her a rather forlorn glance before turning her blonde head and proceeding to the middle of the bridge floor.

Elizabeth was very averse to being the center of attention, given her shy personality, but she tried her best to be brave and maintain her composure like a proper young lady of her time. Felicity watched her friend unhappily, thinking to herself rather bitterly from her point of view about how Capt. Picard was putting her best friend in a rather uncomfortable situation simply because he wanted to punish her for her participation in the skirmish and escape attempt. This thought goaded Felicity into giving the captain yet another rude scowl.

Elizabeth was now standing on the middle of the Bridge floor, her posture was as straight as a stick yet a little relaxed, her head bowed slightly in meek submission, her feet together, with the edges of her clean black-buckled shoes touching each other, and her hands clasped together in a ladylike fashion. Her timid and anxious blue eyes were staring at the floor, and her wavy blonde hair was kept loose and flowing from her mobcap, pinned up in a bun by her light-blue ribbon. Nervousness crept across every inch in her body, but she internally struggled to keep up her courage in the face of a seemingly intimidating jury.

The Negro crewman proceeded with the oath-taking procedure. "Do you swear before the jury that you will speak the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?"

Elizabeth slowly moved her head upward to face the man. "Um…" she replied timidly, swallowing a bit to ease her nervousness. "…Aye, sir," she continued meekly.

Picard nodded to the Vulcan, who slowly looked up from his PADD. "Are you a just a recent acquaintance to Miss Felicity Merriman, or are you her confidante?" he asked coolly.

Elizabeth gave the question a careful and cautious thought. "Pray, what do you mean, good sir?" she asked a little coyly. She was kind of cautions when it came to divulging answers to personal questions, and naturally she wanted to clarify even a simple question very carefully, for she had concerns about divulging personal information about herself, her family, and her friends.

"It's a…perfectly simple question, so you should have little to no trouble understanding what I'm talking about," the Vulcan put in coolly. "You happen to be quite an intelligent human female child, Miss Cole, as was demonstrated during your involvement with the skirmish between your friends and the security personnel. We are only trying to ascertain the nature of the skirmish from your very own frame of reference. Now,…are you a recent acquaintance, or a long-time friend to Miss Merriman?"

Elizabeth mentally prepared herself for the reply that was to come from her own dainty mouth. "I am, quite simply, Lissie's best and closest friend, sir," she replied serenely with a fine mixture of timidity in her tone of voice.

"Would you please relate as to how such a human friendship is possible in your time, given that your personal profile makes exceptional note of your Loyalist affiliation in the Thirteen Colonies?"

"Um…well,…" began Elizabeth calmly. "When Lissie and I met for the first time during one of Miss Manderly's gentlewoman lessons, we put politics aside…completely…and just…"

"Broke the ice and in friendship took each other for what you were?" put in Picard.

Elizabeth gave a shy nod in reply.

"Hmm…" mused Picard a tad thoughtfully. "You know,…Miss Cole,…from the reports I receive about your conduct, you do seem to possess…quite the aptitude…for being…and acting like…a young mother," he said to Elizabeth. "One of the guards reported this during your confinement in the brig with the rest of your friends, and he seemed quite admired, too." For some reason Picard couldn't help commenting on Elizabeth's ability to be a little mother toward the youngsters who were sitting quietly in the background, very near the view-screen.

Instinctively Elizabeth turned her head to face Nan and William, with her empty seat an only obstacle standing between the two little mites. Turning her head forward, and feeling flattered by the comment the captain was making about her, she exhibited a shy smile in reaction, and laughed a rather involuntary, nervous laugh. Perhaps that comment was to make Elizabeth feel comfortable a bit; something to overcome her shyness by a tad degree. After this mild anecdote, Picard decided to get below the matters of importance regarding the events prior to the skirmish, as seen from Elizabeth's point of view.

"As Miss Merriman's closest friend, could you not have persuaded her out of her fears and consult any of the crew on board this ship?" he inquired directly to Elizabeth.

"'Tis what she did, Captain," replied Elizabeth, after a one-second delay between the captain's inquiry and the initial stage of her reply. "but Mr.…um,…Mr. La Forge, according to Lissie, _(gulp)_ didn't believe her, is how she put it. Then there was Miss Counselor, and the good Doctor, whom she tried to consult, but,…well,…, they were…unavailable.

"Knocked out, you mean, as how Miss Merriman put in her testimony," analyzed the Vulcan in a coolly fluent manner.

Elizabeth gave another diffident nod. "Aye, sir," she responded meekly.

It was now Picard's turn to question Elizabeth further. "Could you also not have considered suggesting to you friend about consulting other members of the crew apart from Chief Engineer La Forge, Counselor Troi, and Dr. Crusher?"

Elizabeth solemnly shook her head. "No," she replied.

"Why not?"

"Lissie felt…very, very scared as to what Mr. Riker would do…," began Elizabeth, before giving her statement another practical thought, "…Assuming it was…Mr. Riker who was doing all the plotting." She swallowed a bit out of nervousness. "The plot…was going to take place…while all five of us were fast asleep. For all we knew…anyone on board…this…this ship…could be in league with Mr. Riker….and therefore not to be trusted." She nodded a little as a sign that that was all she had to say for the time being.

"So you decided to use this excuse to justify Felicity persuading the rest of your friends to get involved in a skirmish with the crew and an escape attempt from the _Enterprise_?"

Elizabeth felt rather miffed about Capt. Picard's assertion because to her it kind of implied that she herself was being neglectful in coming up with alternative options when from her point of view any practical options to sorting out the matter of the plot were unavailable. At least that's how she saw it prior to the skirmish. She looked up at the captain a bit solemnly.

"Captain, I implore you, please do not speak about Lissie in this manner," she pleaded. "To just simply ask her to consult another…member of the crew…when Ben had just cautioned us about relating our problems to any of the crew…would have been most unkind, especially that Lissie was very, very fearful of what was to come…if we ever slept another night on board this ship." She paused briefly to recollect her thoughts. "If you were Lissie, you would understand."

Elizabeth look back at Felicity, and Felicity couldn't help but admire her best friend's calm composure in the midst of a seemingly intimidating jury.

The Vulcan decided to expound matters further. "I do have one intriguing question to ask you, and it's the very same thing I've initially asked your…'best friend'," he pressed. "How…did you manage to figure out how to disengage the force field on Deck 4?"

Elizabeth suddenly became cautious. She thought that if she answered the Vulcan's query, she would put herself and the rest of her friends in a position where they could never make another getaway attempt. Furthermore, she thought her answer would give justification to separate her from her friends as well.

"Um…forgive me, good sir, but I know not what you are talking about," answered Elizabeth cautiously.

"What?" cut in Ensign bates. "Is she stupid or something?"

Lt. Keswick narrowed his eyes rather suspiciously. No," he replied slowly and easily, eyeing her studiously. "I think she's…cautious."

Picard had to find a way to make Elizabeth feel sort of at ease. "Miss Cole," he addressed, "We're only curious as to how you were able to bypass certain security measures on board the _Enterprise_. We won't hurt you or get rid of you if you tell us."

Elizabeth was rather hesitant to buy this. "But if I do, you'll get rid of me and find a way to separate me from the rest of my friends," she answered fearfully.

Picard looked at the girl a tad thoughtfully. "I can pretty much promise you on my word, Miss Cole, that what you fearfully anticipate as a result of your seemingly incriminating answer is not going to happen," he said with serious sincerity. "Not even on my watch. We're only interested in the truth."

Elizabeth looked up at the captain like she looked at her father and mother. "Promise?" she asked.

Picard only gave a silent nod. Gulping a little to ease down her nervousness, Elizabeth began her diminutive narration.

"Well,…it just…entered my mind," she began. "You see, as a practical and observant girl, I observed how your…little things that you were on your left side are used…as I pass by other people on the same deck we reside in. _(pause)_ And so I thought to myself, why not use that little thing to issue some kind of…command…that will…bring down…whatever was in our way?" The very last phrase involved a smooth descent of her inflection.

"The force field, you mean," put in Picard curiously.

The entire Bridge was steeped in profound silence until Lt. Bates inconsiderately broke it.

"Smart aleck, that one," he remarked quite loudly for all to hear.

* * *

Evening, eight hours later…

In a Main Science Lab on Deck 36, a seemingly unimportant-looking group of light-blue uniformed personnel of both genders in the Federation Science Division were examining various objects found at the scene of the skirmish. Based on the updates given by Capt. Picard and Lt. Commander Data, they seemed to have come up with a premise that Felicity and her friends inadvertently attracted both the Borg, as well as Lt. Harry Corbin's intent on getting rid of the children due to his paranoid fears of the children therein luring the Borg to the _Enterprise_.

Meanwhile, Capt. Picard was parked on his Ready Room desk chair, musing over what he had been hearing during the Main Bridge trial, as well as the decisions that he made, especially the ones concerning sending the children back to the maximum security brig. Were these decisions prudent, he asked himself. Were they ethical? Did they seem somewhat necessary? Most of all, was he being to hard on the colonial children? And would his decisions be of great regret? These were questions that niggled and raced through the back of his mind encased in his glossy bald head.

Seconds later, his combadge emitted an audible beep. The voice emanating from the badge belonged to a man in his early thirties.

"DuLacey to Capt. Picard."

Naturally Picard tapped back his combadge. "Go ahead," he answered a tad curtly.

"Captain, you'd better come down here. We've just made a rather interesting discovery."

"On my way."

* * *

Capt. Picard made his prompt arrival to the Main Lab. Lt. Commander Data was in the midst of supervising the blue-uniformed lab personnel. Their seemingly significant discovery comprise of successfully finding the source of Riker's explicit order to have the children stuffed into Mark VI torpedoes and scattered across space. The cause of Riker's seemingly involuntary order was from a special chemical that was injected into his body, which made him extremely susceptible to following any order given.

A hazel-blonde, brown-eyed lieutenant by the name of Lt. Ian DuLacey immediately approached the captain in a semi-excited mood. "Captain, you're here," he greeted eccentrically, as he fished out a 2-inch vial out of his navy-blue trenchcoat pocket. "Here. Take a good look at this."

Picard peered closer to the vial that DuLacey was holding up in front.

"It's a type of chemical strangely dubbed as..._mensregoserum_," DuLacey informed, before beginning his explanation of the chemical itself. "Basically a special mind-control chemical. When injected into the bloodstream it travels throughout the nervous system until it reaches the neural pathways of the brain and takes control of the cerebral cortex; you know, the section of the brain that deals with attention, awareness, thought, language, consciousness, and all that stuff that deals with the individuals entire coordination of the body? The serum makes the victim extremely susceptible to all…suggestion."

Picard felt rather impatiently skeptical. "So what's your point?" he queried almost right away.

"I'm saying…that _this_ little chemical could possibly be the case of Riker's plot against those five colonial kids that we're keeping on board." DuLacey moved up closer to whisper to him. "You see, Riker wouldn't normally do any of that stuff. Would he." He eccentrically clicked back his neck. "So…it's highly likely that…he needed a little goading. In other words, something…or someone…had to control him."

Picard nodded seriously, sort of fascinated by what the personnel had just discovered concerning the cause of the children's skirmish with security. "Do we know who's responsible?" he inquired further.

DuLacey motioned the captain over to a table on the right, near another table where Data was busying himself over. Scanning his table briefly, and sliding on his clear-plastic gloves, DuLacey carefully picked up a hypospray which was privately rumored among the lab personnel to be used prior to the skirmish.

"Based on my surface-originated forensic analysis of the fingerprints, as well as the tiny DNA traces found on this little hypospray, I would be tempted to jump to the conclusion that the likely culprit behind your little skirmish affair would be…Lt. Harry Corbin."

"Corbin?" goggled Picard.

For Lt. DuLacey and the lab personnel to acquire such evidence in a seemingly timely manner would have required fairly sophisticated and methods in the area of 24th century Federation technology. Each piece of equipment belonging to the _Enterprise_ had some sort of tiny barcode stamped anywhere on any equipment for tracking purposes. Such branded property were kept track of by the ship's computer systems, as well as the external and internal sensors, and every item was ID'd. In the area of 24th century crime-solving, this method would have most likely been used to track down certain criminals who have handled a particular object based on the biological properties found on an object, such as fingerprints, spittle, human hair, human sweat, skin oils, and skin flakes. However, like all other technology, there could be no guarantees of infallibility, so making conclusions on a presumed culprit were not at all done lightly. But with the assistance of such crime-solving methods, Lt. DuLacey's conclusion would have been somewhat logical.

Picard thought that he and Data should handle Lt. Corbin personally, rather than send security to fetch him, since he was kind of concerned about making a scene. "Mr. Data, you're with me," he called.

"Sir?" he asked.

"We're going to fetch that son of a bitch ourselves…and send him to the brig if need be."

The last thing that Data did was to seal a First Aid Medkit. "Does our discovery guarantee the release of our guests?"

"I should hope so. Now come on. We've got a criminal on board to catch."

* * *

A/N (1): I should have mentioned this long ago, but if you happen to see the word "emphatically" in this fanfic, it is taken in the context of "forceful". (I should have known that "emphatic" means tactful. Sorry.)

A/N (2): Again, Ensign Karl Bergen's dialogue is phonetically written to give you a solid idea as to how exactly he speaks his German-English.

A/N (3): The stuff I was talking about concerning 24th century crime-solving methods were derived from whatever I've been learning about barcode technology, and how computer technology is designed to track items that are tagged with these things. For more information on barcodes, go to Wikipedia dot (.) org and type "barcodes".

A/N (4): The part about the chemical that made Riker susceptible to suggestion was derived from Alex Rider, when he injected the nib of a fountain pen containing a chemical that put its victim into a submissive condition against a helicopter pilot and made him susceptible to whatever command Alex was giving him. The seemignly weird name which I gave the chemical, which is called _mensregoserum_, means "mind control serum", and is derived from the three Latin words _mens, _(mind)_ rego,_ (control, as in the context of "ruling")and_ serum _(potion). (If you readers happen to have a better, more scientific-sounding name for this special serum, do let me know in your reviews and feedback.) Also, much of the brain stuff that Lt. DuLacey is talking about is mostly derived from a bit of brain research from Wikipedia, especially the research concerning the cerebral cortex, the area of the brain (in the anterior section, I think) that "plays a key role in memory, attention, perceptual awareness, thought, language, and consciousness." (c.f. Wikipedia) From my point of view it would have been somewhat logical for Corbin's serum to take over those mental abilities in order to gain near complete control of an individual. (If you happen to have rationally scientific opinions concerning Lt. DuLacey's brain explanations, do let me know in your feedback.)

A/N (5): Exact statistics on time and stardate are kind of made up, but are as close as they can be when timed.


	40. Chapter 40

_**Star Trek: The Next Generation – Souvenirs**_

**Written By:**_** Commander Cody CC-2224**_

CHAPTER 40

Back on the central brig in the Detention Area, the five children were nearly steeped in the midst of boredom than ever before. However each of them attempted to counteract their boredom and keep some semblance of their sanity by comforting each other as best as they could afford to do.

While reclining on the left hand side of the brig, Felicity tried to forget her unsettledness by encompassing Nan and William under her arms, with Nan on her left and William on her right, which was done a relative few minutes after impatiently pacing around the brig before settling her body down. Ben was seated near Felicity's right side, almost leaning on her, twiddling his thumbs at the security guards armed with Type 3 phasers. Elizabeth was seated at her right hand side of the slightly cushioned center bench, dotingly stroking the tresses of little Nan's flowing auburn hair in a downward direction. The stimulating sight of Elizabeth stroking Nan's hair made Felicity long to have her own hair stroked as well. And there seemed to be one person in the group available to do it for her.

"Ben?" she asked softly.

Ben turned his head around. "Hmm?" he answered quietly.

"Um…I was wondering, can you stroke my hair a bit?" Felicity immediately shifted her eyes on Nan having her hair stroked, and Ben followed that point of her gaze, too.

With a mild, exhaled sigh, Ben scooted himself over to the left hand corner of the brig nearest to the opening's edge. Felicity could hear Ben's half-hearted sigh and decided to make a point about her stroking his hair in a previous moment.

"Come on, Ben," she said a tad softly. "I stroked your hair when you asked me to, now it's your turn to stroke mine. Please?" She gave Ben a forlornly pleading look.

Without a word of reply, Ben untied the satin white ribbon which gathered Felicity's reddish-auburn hair into a ponytail. Then he set himself to taking affectionate hold of the tresses of her hair, and slid his hands across them like he was smoothing his hands over silk material from the milliner's shop. The whole experience was stimulating for Felicity that in the midst of the sensation of having her hair stroked made her forget the slight uneasiness of flutters she was experiencing somewhat in her stomach after her defiant behavior during the hearing, as well as her experience during the skirmish, which made her have stomach flutters. Felicity laid back, shut her eyes, and smiled in the joy that came with having her vibrant red hair lovingly stroked. Elizabeth secretly envied Felicity a bit about her hair being played with, and Ben could slowly take notice of that, too.

"Don't worry, Lizzie," he tried to assure her. "I might be able to do that sometime…with Lissie's permission, of course, since such…things…are usually associated with…" In the midst of that sentence he couldn't seem to find the right words, but both Felicity and Elizabeth sort of knew what Ben was referring to, and it had to do with something called "love affairs". So Felicity just smiled back at her friend, and Elizabeth almost half-heartedly smiled back, too.

A few seconds later, the hair-stroking fun was interrupted when the same black crewman who was present at the Main Bridge hearing made his seemingly unceremonious arrival to the Brig area, approaching the center brig. After a curt nod, the security guard at the right hand side of the brig opening pressed a few touch-buttons on a keypad, which instantaneously disengaged the force field sealing the opening. Both Nan and William shared a common astonishment for the pixie dust appearance of the disappearing force field.

"There's been a warrant from the ship's captain concerning your release," he said in his Southern accent.

"From the ship?" Ben asked right away with the intent of clarifying things a bit further.

The black crewman chuckled to himself a bit. "No, Mr. Davidson. From the brig, actually." He jerked his head a bit as he leaned himself near the left hand side of the brig entrance, with his arm supporting his leaning body, and crossed his legs. "You're free to go," he said pointedly.

Those four words, which echoed in the back of Felicity's mind, made her breathe an exhilarating sigh of relief. But Ben was curious as to why this soonest release.

"Might I inquire as to…why?" he asked rather cautiously, fearing that it could be some kind of trap being laid for him and his compatriots.

"Well," replied the crewman, "It so turns out that the one responsible for giving you the impetus…via Commander Riker…to start shooting folk on board the _Enterprise_ and making your daring getaway was most likely due to the likes of…Lt. Harry Corbin.

"Corbin?" asked Felicity, nearly aghast. Thoughts of this mysterious and at the same time devious lieutenant in the Science Division swam through the back of his mind like a reflection on pond water. _Corbin…_ he thought to himself. _The one handing out those indecent articles for Ben to look at and pervert himself with…but how…?_

"What happened to him?" Ben asked rather curiously.

"Well," replied the crewman, twitching the back of his head a bit with his free right hand. "As far as I'm concerned he may already be in detention already for what he did."

"It served him right, though," spat Felicity, who kind of hated his guts. Felicity remembered the lieutenant taunting them a bit in Ten-Forward before he accompanied them to the Biomedical Lab, and even remembered him scaring the children about that MRI machine which she and the rest of her friends and siblings were about to be subjected to. As to whether he was the one sneaking the Playboy magazines into the Guest Quarters, that remained to be seen; though in her very mind, Corbin could be a likely candidate for such debauchery. Wherever he was, Felicity felt rather glad in her heart that he wouldn't be back to bother them again.

However, the sensation of freedom, as well as the idea that Lt. Corbin was sort of gone for good was abruptly cut when the crewman issued some kind of a disclaimer.

"But you'll be kept under sensor surveillance 24/7," he added.

"24/7?" inquired Felicity curiously, in spite of her slight stomach flutters and dizzying headaches, which she tried to push back in her mind.

"24 hours a day, 7 days a week," explained the crewman. He looked at the children rather weirdly, and the children looked back at him weirdly as well, especially the little mites, who looked at him in a curious manner with their eyes slightly bugged out.

"Come," he said forcefully as he turned around. "I'll take y'all to Ten-Forward. Y'all must be ravenously hungry. He led the children out of the brig. It was a relief for them to stretch their legs.

As he and the children disappeared from the brig area, the guards alongside the central brig had a light discussion with each other.

"You think we should follow 'em, just in case?" asked the guard on the left side of the brig opening.

"Nah."

* * *

After taking the main turbolift to Deck 10, the Negro crewman led the children to the Ten-Forward entranceway, which was precisely where he decided to lead them before he took his courteous leave. Given the nature of the skirmish, each of the children felt as though the personnel in Ten-Forward would stare at them like they would at criminals and mock and tease them.

"I think I know what you're feeling right now," said the crewman, noticing the fearful looks the older girls had, as well as the little mites, who felt it a whole lot more than Ben did. "They're not going to make you run the gauntlet simply 'cause you were at odds with security. They'll just leave you alone…if you leave them alone."

"Well, that's awfully nice to hear," said Felicity, feeling a tad squeamish. The crewman simply shrugged his shoulders.

"Y'all will be okay in there?" he asked.

Ben nodded in reply.

"Good man." Without another word he took leave of the children as he steadily disappeared into the business of the Deck 10 corridors, with the children staring back at him in some sort of half-hearted wonder.

Not bothering to waste any more seemingly precious time, Ben led his friends to the midst of the Ten-Forward room until they were in convenient reach of the bar counter. Seconds later the seemingly familiar face of Barman Marles emerged from the back of the counter as though he had just risen from the dead.

"Well, well, well if it ain't those faiyve jailbirds, jest sprang outta jail," he greeted in a rather sarcastic manner. "Rumor had it y'all earned yerselves a naiyce big slaiyce o' jailtaiyme, brig'd up in Section Four of the 'Tention Area. Am I raiyght, Phyllis?" he asked, turning his head clockwise to face the young barmaid in her mid 20's.

"Well, they sure didn't all get themselves banged up on their own accord, that's for sure," replied the barmaid.

"You sed 'sure' _twice_, Phyllis," criticized the barman a tad loudly. "Is that really damn necessary tuh say that damn same word over 'n' over agin?"

"The hell I did, Marles," retorted the barmaid. "An' I ain't speaking to you no more 'till you shut that big fat hole in your face that keeps a-blabbin' 'bout how those poor little white folk got their asses sitting on a carpeted brig floor."

"'Big fat hole'?" the barman retorted back in seemingly disgusted dismay. "Phyllis! You cain't say stuff like that to ah respectable whaiyt man!"

"Hey!" replied the barmaid forcefully. "It's a free Federation universe! I can say what I won't that needs sayin'!" Instinctively she braced her hands on her sexy hips. "Now aren't you going to help your respectable white customers, or is your white mouth going to keep droning somber, trashy stories about how five innocent white kids got 'emselves screwed, through no damn fault of their own, in one of Uncle Sam's finest collection of ergonomic jail cells?" The last phrase in her sentence had a tone of sarcasm in her fluent, fairly witty Southern dialect.

"There ya go, Phyllis," cackled the barman. "All blabbin' 'bout them kiddies' jailtaiyme."

The barmaid was feeling rather frustrated with him. "Marles, just…see to your customers, for God's sake," she said to him a mite tetchily. "I' gotta take out someone's fast food burger 'n' fries out of Replicator Two."

The barman sarcastically waved her off and turned his unnaturally ogling gaze at the children. Ben had a rather inquisitive look on his face, which naturally prompted the barman to find out what Ben was up to.

"'Fast food burgers'?" Ben inquired rather curiously.

The barman instinctively cleared his throat. "Crewman Bates was orderin' one. Basically an extry-large beef patty sandwiched baiy two side uv an extry-large burger bun."

"'Sandwiched'?" asked Felicity in astonishment, as though such a term was unheard of back in her time.

"Yeah." The barman sounded pretty dismayed. "Don't y'all know what a 'sandwich' even means?" The history of the sandwich was not to come until a few years after their time back in 1776, when John Montagu, the 4th Earl of Sandwich decided to get innovative with his food while playing his favorite recreational card games. But even if the colonial children did know about that particular history, it would somewhat be irrelevant in their lives, since most colonials didn't particularly care very much about various affairs going on in England, except for the ones affecting the Colonies in a significant manner.

"I'm having one anyway," said Ben quickly and impulsively, not bothering to know much of anything about sandwich history. He was too hungry to even consider being inquisitive about it anyway.

"There he goes again," said Elizabeth, who was wistfully whispering to her friend. "Always making a request for something new."

"Well, when you are in a different time like this, it's always good to take the opportunity to try something new," replied Felicity. At this point she was feeling pretty thankful that Ben did things like that so she could try a sample of them. Ben almost always had the audacity to go beyond the conventional. It was in his colonial rebel blood.

"Yeah, well, howddaya want it, boy?" asked the barman.

"What do you mean?" asked Ben.

"Well,…aside frum havin' just a beef patty enclosed 'twixt two burger bun slices, ya also have thuh option uv addin'…stuff in it. Ya know,…stuff like…Heinz's Ketchup. Green lettuce. Sam's Yellow Mustard." The barman could see that Ben's eyes were totally wide over the varied selections that were unheard of back in the late 18th century.

"But uv course you can always have it plain," finished the barman. "Would ya like it…plain?"

"Aye," replied Ben. "Plain…'burger'…please."

"Fair enough." The barman listed the order on his PADD with the assistance of his electronic tablet pen. He then turned to the children. "Next 'un up," he called.

Felicity was pretty much the next customer in the group line. The barman gave a rather weird face to her, for which her reaction was an exasperated sigh.

"So whaddaya want, lady?" he asked briskly.

"Um…" began Felicity without much enthusiasm. "Well, I'd like…something that has English beef, please."

"Such as?"

"Oh…I don't know. Something."

Elizabeth began to feel a tad anxious about her friend. "Lissie, pray tell, is something wrong?" she asked rather worriedly.

"Um…no, really, Elizabeth. I feel fine…thank you…very much," replied Felicity, struggling to keep her composure. But it seemed that Elizabeth didn't really think her friend was 'fine'.

In the midst of all that, a strange idea popped into the barman's mind. Immediately he ducked under his left hand side of the bar counter and pulled out an 8x12 laminated sheet, which showed a mouth-watering picture of Stouffer's meatloaf dunked in U.S. Southern-style gravy.

"Bin one o' maiy favorite souvenirs, this sheet, as I always been sorta old-fashhun'd," commented the barman. "Purhaps yu'd like ta traiy a bit o' dat sample, eh lady?"

"I think…" replied Felicity rather half-heartedly. "I think I'll try some of that,…tha…thank you, sir," she finished, as though she was half out of breath.

"Me, too," put in Ben.

After listing Felicity's meal order and Ben's second meal order on his PADD, the barman then turned to Elizabeth. "And you?" he asked her.

Elizabeth gave a rather shy nod.

"'K," he finished. "And I take it that thuh li'l mites'll want a goodly share of that stuff, too?"

Both Nan and William nodded in wonder, as each of them were too busy sharing an astonishment over the hi-resolution colored photo of the Stouffer's meatloaf.

* * *

Felicity and the rest of the group managed to find a lone table in the middle of the lounge area, overlooking the center window of the Ten-Forward room. Ben was the last to come to the table, as he was toting the food trays to the restaurant table. He also went to the trouble of taking another trip to and back to the table with tray carrying four ceramic cider mugs and an large elegant teacup the size of an average human adult's fist, which contained a steaming cup of Earl Grey tea for Elizabeth herself.

A large majority of the Ten-Forward personnel were making curious and occasionally offensive stares at the children, but for the most part they were to busy to care, due to their ravenous hunger. Their mouths watered at the sight of that delicious replicated food. After Ben settled down at the table, an immediate time-honored ritual of mealtime grace was said, primarily by Elizabeth, since she was sort of the intermediate wordsmith at this point, and the entire group began devouring their dinner meals quietly.

Even after a few minutes, and for some unknown reason, Felicity was having flutters in her stomach and was having slight difficulty finishing her meatloaf. Halfheartedly she cut off the bitten part, slowly ate it, and gave the rest of the three slices to Ben.

"Here," she said, as she slid off the three slices onto Ben's plate, which currently was occupied by his gravy-topped meatloaf. "You can have my meatloaf. I'm going back to the guest quarters."

Ben felt a tad dismayed by Felicity's behavior. "Lissie, what's the matter?" he asked a little worriedly. "You haven't eaten in…"

"I'll be all right, Ben," Felicity interrupted curtly. Her tone of voice changed from a curt one to a tone of ailing hesitance. "I…I just need to be alone for a while."

Elizabeth also shared a worried look. "Is there something we can do for you, Lissie?" she asked with a genuine look of concern on her face.

Felicity sighed. "Not at the moment," she rejoined tiredly.

"We'll…um…we'll keep watch for Nan and William, if you want," offered Ben.

Felicity exhaled. "Thank you," she replied. Without any further word she left the table and trudged out of Ten-Forward with a slightly limping gait. Elizabeth faced Ben with a worried look.

"I honestly don't know what's with her," she remarked.

It was Nan's turn to make her query. "Why did Lissie leave the table?" she piped up.

Ben shrugged his shoulders. "Perhaps she lost her appetite," he rejoined in a slightly casual manner.

There was a five-second moment of silence among the group before Elizabeth came up with a hypothesis formed in her fairly witty eleven-year-old mind.

"I…um,…think I may have one cause," she said a little hesitantly. "I may be wrong, but I think…she has difficulty getting over the circumstance when you got stunned by one of those crewmen in uniform. Poor Lissie thought you were killed."

The statement was almost enough to trigger a light chuckle from Ben, which made Elizabeth give him a serious look of disapproval.

"Ben, really. 'Tis not funny," she said rather reproachfully.

"I know," replied Ben in the midst of his chuckle. "The way you were saying it, I…really, I just couldn't help laughing to myself." He managed to suppress his laughter a little. "We'll go back to the Guest Quarters after we finish," he said. "I have a feeling that Lissie may need some time to herself."

Elizabeth nodded a little in reply.

* * *

Stouffer's Meatloaf (including Stouffer's Lasagna, though not mentioned in this chapter), always have been my favorite dinner meals. LOL


	41. Chapter 41

_**Star Trek: The Next Generation – Souvenirs**_

**Written By:**_** Commander Cody CC-2224**_

CHAPTER 41

Felicity was reclined on the main sofa, relaxed near its right arm in a semi-upright position, treating herself to playing a few made-up tunes in the D Major scale on her guitar. The music greatly calmed her nerves, as she felt rather slightly traumatized and sick to her stomach after the weapons raid incident.

Suddenly she had a recreational idea that would enliven her spirits. Putting aside her guitar, she decided to make a request to the computer to generate some soul-stirring music reminiscent of her 18th century past.

Felicity cleared her throat before beginning her request. "Computer, please play the Minuet," she ordered with the expectation of the Minuet that she heard at the Templeton Christmas Ball to be played by the computer. Assuming that the computer knew it.

Felicity may not have been aware that there were various minuets composed through the length of time, which was why the computer had difficulty making out her call. "SPECIFY," it ordered neutrally in a crisp tone of its female voice.

"Oh, any minuet," said Felicity impatiently, not thinking clearly.

The computer still did not respond the way Felicity expected it to respond. "THERE ARE OVER _ MINUET PIECES COMPOSED BY MOZART, BACH, BEETHOVEN, BRAHMS…"

"All right! All right!" snapped Felicity in heated exasperation. The computer immediately stopped babbling as Felicity in her itchily pensive mood gave her request another thought. "Which of the musical composers wrote Minuets that were played in,…um,…1776?"

"JOHANN SEBASTIAN BACH, CARL FRIDERIECH BACH, AND WOLFGANG AMADEUS MOZART."

"Try the former," demanded Felicity right away.

Without another word, the computer played through some classical music mixed with harpsichord and violin. Felicity made a face in reaction.

"No, not right," she said disapprovingly. "Try another one."

The computer played through orchestral music, Bach style.

"No, not that," said Felicity, feeling rather impatient.

The charade resumed as the computer kept browsing through the various Bach minuets composed in the late 18th century in chronological order until the Minuet that Felicity was familiar with was now being played on the high-fidelity speakers.

"Aye," agreed Felicity, breathing a grateful sigh of relief. "Now _that's_ more like it."

Vividly remembering the artful dainty dancing that Miss Manderly taught and Elizabeth reinforced, which were performed during her participation at the Templeton Ball, Felicity stepped her way around the clearing of the living area as the music droned on and on. She could see herself back at the ballroom, performing those dances for a curious, formal audience.

The whole sensation lasted for nearly five minutes, when in the midst of that sedate music, the electronic door chime rang. Nearly scared out of her wits, Felicity's imaginations of the ballroom crumbled to dust as her startled green eyes faced the entrance doors.

"Um…come," said Felicity, feeling startled.

Instantaneously the sliding doors opened, and into the room entered Ben, Elizabeth, Nan, and William. Ben was toting two steaming 21st century restaurant foam containers like an 18th century French aristocrat's servant.

"Elizabeth and I brought you something in case you were hungry," he said.

Felicity approached him slowly, her feeling of butterflies in her stomach catching on her. "Thank you," she said in reply. Without another word she took the steaming foam containers and sat at the middle bedside of the king-sized bed. "Computer, end music," she commanded. The same audible beep was heard, followed by an abrupt cutoff in the music.

Felicity halfheartedly opened the container, which revealed the gravy topped meatloaf which she couldn't finish during dinnertime, as well as the other container carrying delicious-looking French bread. After unwrapping the plastic utensils that came with the containers, she chewed her food quietly at a moderate speed.

Felicity was expecting some form of peace and quiet during her personal mealtime, but inquisitive Elizabeth couldn't help asking her best friend about the Minuet being played, given that her ears absorbed a little more than a smidgen of the music.

"Was that the Minuet that was played?" she asked rather inquisitively. "The one you and I danced at during the Templeton Ball?"

Felicity nodded silently as she chewed on a small portion of her meatloaf with her mouth closed.

"Do you mind if I have it played?" she pressed further.

Ben decided to impatiently intervene on Felicity's behalf, though his manner of intervention could almost be perceived by the average lady as somewhat inconsiderate, but he didn't care a bit. "Elizabeth," he addressed, "I think we should let Lissie eat in fair silence. She might have turned off that music because of the possibility of…" he faced Felicity wryly. "…Indigestion."

Elizabeth heaved a rather disappointed sigh, but not before an idea popped into her practical mind about helping her best friend get through the evening. Without another word she moseyed to the replicator, requesting a beverage. When the beverage generated into the niche like enchanted faerie magic, she daintily approached Felicity, carrying a steaming hot dark navy blue mug.

Felicity immediately perked her head up. "What's that?" she asked curiously, trying not to sound rude to her friend.

Elizabeth gave a cursory glance at the steaming mug. "Warm milk," she answered.

"Really?" asked Felicity doubtfully. Without thinking she took the mug with both hands and gave a cursory glance at the mug as well, just like her friend did. "Th-thank you," she said. Without another word or even a second thought she drank the lukewarm milk in a reverent manner. Felicity could feel the milk warming her aching stomach. She felt very refreshed.

"How does it feel?" asked Elizabeth, as she bent closer to her friend.

"Much better, thank you, Elizabeth," answered Felicity.

"I hope so," rejoined Elizabeth. "I was very concerned about your health, Lissie. 'Tis not like you to be so sickly and…"

"Inordinately nauseated?" interrupted Ben.

Elizabeth gave a rather cross look at the teenage boy. "Ben!" she exclaimed in a reproachful and irritated manner unbecoming for her petite personality.

Ben made an open hand gesture in reaction to Elizabeth's seemingly ungainly outburst. "What?" he asked indignantly.

"For goodness' sake, stop interrupting!" complained Elizabeth. "'Tis most rude!"

"So?" Ben asked tactlessly.

To Felicity it didn't help that Elizabeth and Ben were arguing with each other over proper manners while she was trying to finish her meal without suffering from upset stomach. "All right, all right! Stop bickering, both of you!" she cried. "She gave a brief stare at her food as Elizabeth sighed quietly. "It most certainly doesn't help if you're giving me indigestion," Felicity added. In reply Ben gave another open hand gesture, indicating his disinterest to press on with the arguments.

Everyone in the group awaited the moment when Felicity would finish her dinner meal in its entirety. When Felicity was finished after a relative few minutes of moderate eating, Elizabeth took her friend's foam tray to the bathroom, where she instinctively shoved it into the garbage disposal bin before emerging out of the bathroom. Right after that she intended to have a discussion about Felicity's personal problems, since she was particularly concerned about her friend's health.

"So, really, what happened, Lissie?" she asked firmly. "'Tis not like you to just simply leave the dinner table so early." Ben was watching intently from his seating on the desk as the older girls engaged the discussion.

"I…I was sick to my stomach," Felicity replied right away.

Elizabeth made a wry face. "I kind of suspected that you were distraught over Ben being…knocked out…by one of those uniformed crewmen during our fight with them."

"I was," admitted Felicity.

"I'm sorry to hear that," replied Elizabeth as sympathetically as she could. She nervously cleared her throat before changing her tone of voice to an admonishing one. "But really, Lissie," she continued, "I'm beginning to think…that your lovesickness with Ben is getting the better of you."

Although Elizabeth meant well, the statement was enough to anger Felicity, who perceived it as seemingly tactless. She immediately flounced furiously at her friend.

"Elizabeth Cole," she began in icy sternness, "That…is the most in_sen_sitive thing you can ever say about Ben and me." She cast a furious glare at Elizabeth, who shrank back a little near the right hand wall, her mouth open in reaction like a six-year-old scared shitless. "How would you like it if you had someone your age that _you_ have a crush with…and _I_ said detestable things about him? How would you like that? Hmm?"

Elizabeth felt very scared at what Felicity was doing to her. "I…I wouldn't," she replied nervously.

But then again, Elizabeth _has_ no crush," put in Ben, as he slid off the desk and made his approach to the blonde-haired girl. "Not at the present."

"Even so, she has no call to say such things like that!" snapped Felicity.

Ben looked Elizabeth in the eye, his arms crossed steadily. "I'm afraid 'tis true, Elizabeth," he agreed. "You did…sound rather inconsiderate to Lissie."

Dead silence clouded the room as poor Elizabeth felt as though she were being bullied and cornered viciously by wild beasts by both Felicity and Ben. Elizabeth had the urge to throw aside good manners, but controlled herself for the sake of her friends. Everyone looked at Elizabeth during a three-second moment of dead silence.

"Lissie," she pleaded, "I implore you to take heed when I say I said such things to you…for your own good."

"My own good, indeed!" Felicity snapped crabbily in reaction to her friend's nervous plea. "I think you're just trying to justify jealous feelings inside you!"

Elizabeth was aghast to her friend say such tactless-sounding, stinging phrase to her, her who had never even made a word of anger to her in the past several months since the beginning of her friendship. Instinctively she placed her right hand on her right cheek. "That's not true, Lissie," she said in a shocked tone of voice.

Ben was making no sense of the argument at all, and was far more bothered by the older girls' quarrelling. "You girls are acting like a bunch of squabbling spinsters!" he remarked loudly and forcibly.

Elizabeth immediately flounced at Ben. "Ben, please stop that," she scolded reproachfully. "You're being no help at all."

Those words pretty much made Ben feel rather useless around here to alleviate the quarrel between Felicity and Elizabeth. And it made him fume with anger. "Fine!" he said resentfully in a biting manner. "Have it your way then, girls." With his back turned rudely on the girls he strode off to the bathroom in a huff. The automatic sliding doors shut behind him. Both Nan and William shared a fearful feeling among themselves about the arguments going on around their youthful elders.

Her arms crossed, and her entire body tensed for the kill, Felicity turned on Elizabeth like a mad bull. "You're just jealous, Elizabeth" she said bitingly with no concern for her friend's feelings. "I just know it."

Poor Elizabeth gave her friend a dejected look. "That isn't fair, Lissie," she said slowly, with her voice shaking on account of a mixture of nervousness and woe.

"Humph!" snorted Felicity in a deliberate manner. "I think it is."

Those words stung brutally at Elizabeth's heart. _Am I really jealous?_ she thought to herself in anguish. _I almost feel that way, but I have never done anything terrible against my best friend! How can Lissie treat me this way?_ Whether there was truth in Felicity's affirmation of jealousy in Elizabeth or not was one thing, but it was another to rashly accuse someone of a sin without concrete evidence. However, given her flighty nature, if Felicity was going to stubbornly hold to the belief of her Elizabeth's guilty feelings, assuming she had any, then Elizabeth felt she had no incentive to continue a friendship wracked with recrimination.

"Then if you could believe me guilty of such things, you cannot be my best friend," she finished solemnly. Without another word, Elizabeth dejectedly turned her back her friend as she made her approach to the Guest Quarters entranceway, maintaining her ladylike composure as best as she could afford to do. She felt as though she had given up on her friend.

Almost suddenly a worried feeling crept into Felicity's mind like swarm of locusts. The now worried Felicity came to the immediate realization that she was hurting her friend. But more than that, she felt duty-bound to keep everyone together as best as she could, and she could not afford to let mutual recriminations fester inside her and her friend's heart. Impulsively she ran after Elizabeth.

"Elizabeth…" she called worriedly as she instinctively grabbed Elizabeth's right arm with both hands. But Elizabeth shoved her away.

"Leave me alone, Felicity Merriman," she said caustically. Elizabeth continued on until she reached the area of the deck near the Guest Quarters immediately after the sliding doors parted for her. Felicity continued catching up on her until she grabbed her arm again.

"No, Elizabeth," she said crossly and deliberately. "You're not turning your back on me and making a bloody fool out of yourself. You're coming inside this very minute." It was bad enough that Ben was very close to going away from the group, and now Felicity was determined not to let Elizabeth go astray on account of some hurt feelings.

Not wanting to make things worse than they already were, Elizabeth decided to give in and both girls headed back to the room, with the doors closing behind them.

Felicity immediately faced her with a rather sad and cold look. "I'm...I'm sorry…I was being…thoughtless…"

Elizabeth stared at Felicity in a cold manner, her blue eyes looking as though they were about to be brimmed with tears as she struggled within herself to fight them back. "Thoughtless, indeed," she said curtly. "Lissie, when will you ever learn to _think_ before you _speak_?"

Felicity softened a bit rather than get into a raging retort, as her friend's reply made her remember something that her mother told her time and again. "You very much remind me of Mother," she murmured in a small voice.

Elizabeth softened a little and started sniffling on the verge of tears; she felt sort of touched by what Felicity was saying to her. "I…I dare say I do…" she murmured thoughtfully. She started wiping her eyes, and Felicity could see, much to her dismay, that Elizabeth was crying.

"You're really hurting me, Lissie," she blubbered. "I…I might be a little jealous of you…" Elizabeth choked back a sob. "…Because…inside me, I wanted a boy my age…or close to my age…to have…and to love…the way you do with Ben…but…" Another sob was choked back. "…Did I ever do anything…bad to you…out of jealousy?" She sniffled. "What have I done…to _deserve_ this?" Elizabeth bent her head in burning unhappiness and continued sobbing like a heartbroken little girl as tears started streaming uncontrollably down her cheeks.

Felicity gently and sympathetically put both hands on Elizabeth's shoulders. "Elizabeth…" she said softly. Felicity hung her head in shame for a second before she raised it; she came to realization that she hurt or friend by her caustic remarks. She felt somewhat glad that her mother or Mrs. Cole wasn't here to scold her about the unseemly way she was treating her friend.

"Really…" continued Felicity as tactfully as she could, "…I _am_ sorry…that I ever made implications about you being jealous about Ben and me." She gave Elizabeth an earnest look. "'Tis just that…I was bad-tempered…and sick to my stomach…over what I was doing during the skirmish…trying to be brave and all that…and there was the looming possibility that Ben was…killed…and then there was the hearing…" Felicity faltered as she finished the last sentence.

Elizabeth looked up tearfully at her friend. "So you really did think…that Ben was killed after all," she said softly, trying not to sound too inconsiderate in her petite tone of voice. She shut her eyes completely as the flow of salty tears resumed their downward course from her eyes.

Felicity looked at Elizabeth sympathetically. "I…I guess so," she admitted falteringly.

Elizabeth slowly swiped her tearful eyes with her right and elbow sleeve of her pale blue gown. "I know," she said in a fairly understanding manner in the midst of a weepy sniffle. "Being the leader…of this group…is not always easy." She pondered what else to say for a brief moment as she hung her head dejectedly. "I suppose…I should put up with…cantankerous people…like you…" She sniffled again. "…For your sake."

Felicity felt rather touched by what Elizabeth was trying to say in the midst of her tears. After accompanying a crying Elizabeth to the main sofa, she made sure that her friend took her seat near her left hand side of the sofa, with Felicity herself seated beside Elizabeth's right side. She put both arms around her friend in a motherly sort of way, and affectionately stroked the wavy blonde hair that often got merged with Elizabeth's tear-streaked face. Nan and William watched intently as Felicity did her utmost to comfort her friend.

Felicity looked Elizabeth in the eye with great earnestness. "You…are a very…_very_ good friend,…Elizabeth," she said to her consolingly. "Hmm?" With both her arms she shook Elizabeth's body in a motherly manner while Elizabeth herself was still in the midst of sobbing quietly. "You helped me when I was afflicted over Ben's leaving us; you helped take care of Nan and William; you helped Ben come back to his senses…" She pondered her thoughts for a moment while Elizabeth was still crying. "I think I'm beginning to feel…ungrateful about all that." With that, Felicity hung her head and signed. "Do you really think…that I'm taking all this…for granted?"

Elizabeth tearfully nodded her head in reply. Felicity tried to gently dry Elizabeth's tear-streaked eyes with her fingers. Then she took two tissues from a nearby Kleenex box perched on the coffee table and tried to dry her friend's eyes as carefully as she could. She smiled earnestly at her friend.

"Elizabeth…" she continued softly, "I want you to know…how very, _very_ appreciative I am about all this…whatever you did…" And with those words of positive reception Felicity gave Elizabeth a great big hug and squeezed her. After a relative few seconds she looked at her friend as Elizabeth instinctively took another tissue from Felicity's hands, dried her eyes a little more, and blew her nose.

"Elizabeth…" she continued, "I really don't know how you do this,…but you seem to be the most thoughtful person in this little group than anyone of us can ever hope to be."

Suddenly Nan decided to pipe up her own little opinion. "That's not true!" she exclaimed in her own childlike precocity. "I'm thoughtful sometimes."

"So am I," put in William right away in his own solemn way.

Both little mites seemed to realize the seriousness of the conflict between the two older girls. Felicity and Elizabeth both looked at Nan and William. Elizabeth forced an engaging little smile at the youngsters after wiping her face with the tissues that Felicity voluntarily gave her.

The solemn moment lasted for nearly for a half a minute and a quarter when Ben suddenly barged out of the bathroom.

"Are you girls finished arguing with each other yet?" he asked briskly. He felt pretty cooled off after his own sojourn in the bathroom.

Felicity began to feel relieved in both health and mind after resolving the conflict with her best friend. "For the most part," she said a tad wearily.

Ben cast a cursory glance at Elizabeth and started acting in his own boyish, sarcastic manner. "Oh my," he began both sardonically and teasingly. "Elizabeth, have you been crying?"

Elizabeth forced a little laugh in herself over Ben's way of inquiry.

"Dear me," Ben continued in his own sarcasm, "'Tis not like Miss Elizabeth to be crying and moping about something. I've just never seen her done that." He turned to Felicity. "Did you do something to her, Lissie?" he asked her directly.

Felicity just heaved a wearily exasperated sigh at Ben. In reply Ben just gave another open hand gesture that indicated feigned befuddlement over the older girls.

Ben's sarcasm sensation was interrupted when the door chime rung.

"Come," Ben called right away.

At the word of command the automatic sliding doors opened and into the room entered the same blue-faced humanoid alien tailor initially seen during the colonial children's first day on board the _Enterprise_. He was toting an elegant blue silk ball gown, and much to her awe Felicity immediately realized, and in actuality, that it was the very same ball gown she wore to the Christmas ball. Both older girls sprang up from the main sofa, and in this moment of wonder at the gown Elizabeth completely forgot her sadness. It was at this point that Felicity knew in the bottom of her heart that all was forgiven with her best friend.

"Lissie, look!" exclaimed an amazed and enchanted Elizabeth. "'Tis your previous ball gown! The one you wore at the Christmas ball!"

Coming closer, Felicity gasped in awe as she took hold of the swishing blue silk. The sensation got her carried away in euphoric bliss.

"'Tis indeed, Elizabeth," Felicity answered her friend as she dotingly felt the smoothness of the silk blue ball gown. She put her mental focus on the tailor now, since she was quite overcome with curiosity as to how this gown ended up here, in the 24th century, of all places and times.

"This…this is so…exceedingly beautiful…elegant…and charming," Felicity complimented the tailor. "Did you…did you actually manage to get this from my time…or even _make_ this?"

"I…um…I made this," stammered the tailor hesitantly. "Um…why?"

"'Tis so beautiful; it's almost as if it's entirely brand-new" said Felicity as she gazed at the beauty of the gown. Her attention was now turned on the tailor this time. "How did you manage to get it?"

"Well,…um…" the tailor rejoined eccentrically before he began his explanation on his unique procedure of restoring old antiques. "Mostly I copied the patterns and style of your previous ball gown based on your memory logs. I replicated the cloth, made the patterns according to how your mother did it…granted, in the memory logs, of course,…and fitted them all together like a jigsaw puzzle to make…" He abruptly extended both his hands which toted the gown. "…This."

Felicity gazed at the gown once again. "You're…you're utterly amazing," she said dreamily. Coming back to her senses, she gulped a little nervously. "I…really, I don't know how else to thank you."

The tailor let out a genial chuckle. "No need, Miss Merriman," he said briskly.

"Mayhap a simple 'Thank You' would suffice?" Felicity asked sweetly.

The tailor looked inquisitively at the redheaded girl. "'Mayhap'"? he asked curiously. He thought about the verbal "Thank You" note that Felicity was about to say. "Um…well,…I suppose it would."

"Then…thank you…Mr. Tailor," said Felicity a little coyly.

"You're welcome, human child."

After the tailor took his brisk leave, Felicity moseyed off to the bathroom when Ben interrupted her.

"Where are _you_ going, Lissie?" he asked teasingly.

"Where?" replied Felicity in her own teasing manner. "Why, I'm going to the privy to change into this ball gown, of course." And without another word she disappeared behind the sliding doors of the bathroom itself, with Ben watching the little adieu with interest.

"My, oh, my, Lissie does seem to have her spirits jittery, don't you think Lizzie?" he said to Elizabeth.

"Aye, 'tis true," Elizabeth agreed.

"You're not crying anymore, are you?" he asked her again. "I think 'tis cute when little girls cry."

"Ben!" said Elizabeth in teasing dismay. "Really! You honestly don't think of taking pleasure over a girl's distress, do you?"

Ben just simply made a wry face at Elizabeth. A few seconds later Felicity was back from changing in the bathroom. Nan was next to comment on the beauty of her older sister's ball gown.

"Oh, Lissie, you do look so lovely in that ball gown," declared an enchanted Nan.

Felicity felt quite flattered by her younger sister's precocious comment. "Why, thank you, dearest Nan," she rejoined gracefully.

Elizabeth gazed at Felicity's gown with great longing. "I wonder whether they can make my ball gown," she mused wistfully. "The one I wore during the Templeton Ball."

Ben seemed to have heard Elizabeth's wistful statement. "They probably started with Lissie's gown for experimental purposes," he said in reply. Then he muttered to himself rather quizzically, "Why is it always Lissie first?" It seemed that Ben might have detected some kind of patter as regards to who's first in the group.

While Ben was musing over his "Lissie first" point of view, a fairly impressive struck Felicity's mind. She immediately turned to Ben.

"Ben," she called. Ben immediately turned around. "Why don't we dance the Virginia Reel?"

At first, Ben was startled at the idea, given his admitting ineptness with the art of dancing back in his time. But the idea make him chuckle with laughter. "Lissie, I'm afraid I'm not particularly good at dancing," he said slowly.

But Felicity waved it off. Certainly she didn't dress into that elegant ball gown for nothing! "I think you dance fairly well," she declared with a childishly superior tone of voice. She cleared her throat before issuing the computer a direct order. "Computer, please play the Virginia Reel," she ordered with fair grace.

An audible computerized beep of acknowledgement was heard, and the very same Virginia Reel that was played during the Templeton Ball commenced at hi-fi. Initially Felicity smiled and nodded in rhythm of the music, daintily tapping her feet. Joining hands and mind together, both Felicity and Ben danced away, with Ben following in her arms, gazing at her with loving intent. At the background, Nan, Elizabeth, and William in their respective upright seating positions watched the two lovebirds dancing away at the rhythm of the hi-fi music. Elizabeth especially was starting to get rather humored by Ben's slightly clumsy way of dancing, and snickered quietly, with her right hand near her mouth. Nan also was getting amused, too, and so was William, in his own little mischievous way.

* * *

Sorry about the delay of this chapter. I had to think all the dialogue and apology drama through rather carefully in order to present a fairly realistic side. Truth be told, this is sort of the first time (in this story) that you get to read about Elizabeth crying. LOL (You may be kind of wondering whether I find the idea of crying girls to be a cute one…)

The description of Elizabeth's scared reaction was based on one of illustrator Dan Andreasen's drawings of a scared Nan on a horse carriage trying to come to Felicity in one of the Felicity's Short Stories Collection titled _Felicity's New Sister_.

The Virginia Reel that Felicity asked the computer to play is the very same tune that is heard in the _Felicity: An American Girl Adventure_ movie. The Mozart piece known to both Felicity and Elizabeth as the "Minuet" is the very same tune played in the movie as well, though I've discovered (much to my rather slight dismay) that what is called the "Minuet" turned out to actually be the "_Eine Kleine Nachtmusik_", a Mozart piece which was composed in 1787, and the Felicity movie takes place in 1775.


	42. Chapter 42

_**Star Trek: The Next Generation – Souvenirs**_

**Written By:**_** Commander Cody CC-2224**_

CHAPTER 42

Capt. Picard was in his usual meditative state. His mind was racing as to whether or not he should send the children back to their own time, now that the opportunity in the form of the Corellian cruiser was now directly on his doorstep. He wasn't woefully ignorant of world history; he knew that the 18th century, especially the era of the Thirteen Colonies, was rife with bloody turmoil, especially during the turbulent years of the American War for Independence. By sending the children back, he was basically putting them in a turbulent situation that they would have difficulty coping with for the next years to come. At the same time, however, the children had just come in contact with the things of the future, so sending them back could be a might tricky, especially with the Temporal Prime Directive currently forced. Maybe he should let them stay in this timeline instead, if that were the case.

But then the issue would arise as regard to their families. It was a psychological fact that children of olden times valued their loved ones more almost more than anything else, since they were pretty much all they could lean on, especially since they had to depend on each other in order to survive in an era where modern technology was pretty much absent from their lives. Besides, he thought to himself, there was still some good in the past. As an avid classicist, he read a variety of classical works written by great authors of olden times. Perhaps there were some aspects of the 18th century past that were to be valued, such as being caught up with home, hearth, and family. Despite the children being surrounded by technological amenities one could only dream of, they would not be able to fill in the hole of things they knew and missed with all their heart, such as home, hearth, family, friends and acquaintances; all gone from the past in the 24th century. They were children who clung to the way of life of their time.

Picard's musing moment was rudely interrupted when his combadge beeped rapidly three times.

"Riker to Capt. Picard." It was Commander Riker.

Picard instinctively tapped back his combadge. "Go ahead, Number One," he ordered.

"We've just received word from the Corellians that one of their vessels is due to touch down in the next forty-eight hours or so."

"Acknowledged. What for?"

"The Corellians intend to take the children back to their own time. Isn't that what you kind of wanted, Captain?"

"Probably, but I fear there may be some philanthropic issues that I will be clashing with when I make my decision. I want to speak to the Counselor about that matter before making any decision regarding this…transportation."

"Since when did you get rather…philanthropic…about sending them back, Captain?"

Picard was silent for a brief moment. "Since the day when I heard the Counselor's speech about the children while they were confined to the brig."

"I see. Well, don't take too long. Some of us are getting rather edgy about going in conflict with the Temporal Prime Directive."

"I won't. Picard out." Picard tapped his combadge to turn it off, then reclined on his Ready Room seat with his hands at the back of his head. Then a thought entered the back of his bald head: Why wait? Impatient and edgy as usual inside him, he switched on an internal channel across the entire ship.

"Counselor Troi, please report to my Ready Room immediately," he ordered.

* * *

Holodeck 2, Deck 10...

Ben Davidson was situated in a grassy field, the same place where Felicity rode Old Bess, which was why he personally chose that landscape due to its familiarity of its time. The field was era appropriate for Ben's time, and was in actuality in 1776, thanks to the computer's rigorous specifications for date, place, and time. The grass was half a foot tall on average, making it almost easy for Ben to conceal his fairly lanky but exceptionally sturdy body as he lay prone while improving his sharp-shooting skills with 18th century firearms.

So as he was currently in prone position, Ben managed to squeeze a shot from the Brown Bess musket at a bull's-eye target with bright red circle outlines. He exhibited a sigh of relief as he managed to get his shot at least closer to the red dot, given that muskets of the day were not as wholly accurate as rifles.

Not wanting to continue this seemingly pointless target-practicing charade, Ben decided to try something new in the holodeck. He asked the computer to generate a new firearm untried for his day; one that was ancient to 24th century standards but futuristic to the standards of his day.

"Computer." The computer emitted two respective low-to-high beeping sounds as a signal of an awaiting of command. "Mauser rifle from the 1890's. Karabiner 98K."

A holographic bolt-action Mauser rifle appeared at Ben's right side. The Mauser Karabiner was a breech-loaded weapon from late 19th century which used sleek, pointy brass shells and had to be loaded individually rather than loaded by clip. Before firing of the gun could begin, the shell had to be manually cocked into the breech so that the firing mechanism could fire the bullet out of the gun. This was done by sliding the bolt action loader lever in a 15 degree clockwise direction, pulling and pushing the lever back all the way, and sliding the lever back all the way counterclockwise.

With the new firearm at hand, Ben put aside his Brown Bess and gripped the Mauser. Then he stood up from the ground and make another computer request.

"Computer, I want a portrait of King George and his wife," he demanded.

"SPECIFY CHRONOLOGICAL PARAMETERS."

"Um…the one that exists around 1776. The one with the king of England, George the Third, and his wife, Charlotte."

The purely holographic yet surreal portrait of the king of England and his lovely wife appeared directly in front of him. Ben moved the portrait a little farther in firing distance from his firing position from where the Brown Bess lay, using the firearm itself as a distance marker. After traipsing back to his firing position, he cocked the Mauser, took aim as he sturdily shouldered the rifle butt on his right shoulder, and fired a single round as the kickback pushed abruptly at his shoulder. The recoil was so unusually strong in the Mauser, as it was his very first time he had ever fired a antiquated yet futuristic gun that packed a powerful punch. The shrapnel hit the background area between the faces of George and Charlotte, leaving a slightly gaping hole in the portrait itself.

"Blasted kickback," Ben irascibly muttered to himself in frustration. His intention was to drive a shot right smack in the middle of King George's face. He was a colonial Patriot, and Patriots in general held great resentment against what the King of England was doing to their cherished freedoms. This was his way of venting his hotheaded seventeen-year-old umbrage against the king.

At that moment the holodeck exit doors slid open and in entered Elizabeth. The scene that Ben was making was enough to dismay her, as the idea of engaging in target practice with a portrait of the King and his Queen was not only distasteful, but treasonous in her time; though the treasonable reasons could be left out, since this was not the 18th century but the 24th century. But aside from being reproachful with Ben about that sort of thing, Elizabeth had another reason for coming in to the Holodeck: there was to be a morning gathering with the Chaplain.

"Mr. Davidson," she called loudly. Ignoring her completely, Ben fired another shot at the lower area of Charlotte's face and cocked the Mauser again.

"Mr. Benjamin Davidson!" she called loudly again in a persistent manner.

Ben was to busy trying to take aim at the King's face that he never bothered to turn his face to Elizabeth. "Die, you son of a bitch," he muttered, seconds before successfully managed to get a clean shot at King George's face, smack in the middle. Habitually he cocked the firearm again.

Elizabeth's mouth was agape and her right hand on her chest, in reaction was dismayed at the desecration of the royal portrait. "That is despicable!" she exclaimed.

Ben simply shrugged in reply. "Who cares?" he said nonchalantly. He squeezed another shot that made another gaping hole in the face of Queen Charlotte.

Elizabeth couldn't stand the indignity and desecration of a royal portrait of the King and Queen of England being used as target practices by the likes of hotheads. Gulping a bit as she proceeded to maintain her composure to settle down her nervousness, she cleared her throat before making a verbal request to the computer to cancel Ben's holodeck program.

"Computer, end program," she ordered loudly, despite her nervousness. She knew that Ben would start going into raging tempers on account of this, but she decided to get it done. Instantaneously the virtual surroundings of the familiar Virginia meadows dematerialized ethereally and disappeared completely, leaving only the neat graph-like black-and-yellow hologrid.

Now Ben was angry, just as Elizabeth feared he would be. "What the…" he muttered resentfully in aggravation. Hesitating, he got up from the floor and attempted to see who it was. "You know, I'm a hair's breadth from riddling you with musket ball holes miss C…" As he turned to face Elizabeth, he forced himself to stop cold while standing up. He felt pretty resentful at what Elizabeth was doing to him just as he was having fun.

Elizabeth was getting a little frightened, but she regained her poise as she gave a serious look to Ben.

"Benjamin Davidson," she began a little timidly but determinedly in an effort to steady her scaredy-cat self, "You've been cooped up in this virtual room for Lord knows how long." She changed her tone of voice to a forceful one. "Don't you ever take a break from all this?"

Ben only sighed crossly. Elizabeth was direct now in her next announcement.

"Felicity requests your presence back in the guest quarters."

"So she does," Ben rejoined in a rather wry manner. Finding himself unable to displease Felicity, Ben accompanied Elizabeth out of Holodeck to and back to the Guest Quarters, as the holodeck doors slid shut behind them with a pneumatic-sounding bang.

* * *

Both Ben and Elizabeth were strolling briskly across the Deck 10 corridor on their usual way to the Guest Quarters. Most of the time, the conversations between the two were filled with mutual recriminations, due to their differing outlooks of political affairs, but for the most part, they were in line with the standards of fair courtesy.

"You know, Lizzie," began Ben in a rather protesting manner in his rants about being interrupted in the middle of his fun time, "You could have just told me in advance. You know how I hate being interrupted in the middle of my fun time." He glowered at Elizabeth. "You _know_ that, don't you." He faced his head straight at the looming corridor. "And why am I even talking with you, anyway? Lissie will just feel jealous that I'm conversing with another girl!"

"We're _not_ in love, Ben; I'm sure you already know that for yourself. We're only conversing as friends," rejoined Elizabeth firmly, while trying to keep herself calm. "Besides, you decided to go gallivanting around the virtual room making a rather blatant political point about the King and Queen of England."

"Because I'm not exactly that fond of them," Ben put in right away. "Actually, more than that, I _detest_ them!"

"Ben, for goodness' sake!" Elizabeth exclaimed in dismay. She could get pretty sensitive whenever the King and Queen of England were talked about in an irreverent and disparaging manner. "The nerve of you saying such things about them! I'm sure they mean well."

Ben shrugged and scoffed rather tactlessly. "If they really mean well," he said, "They shouldn't have been interfering with our rights."

Elizabeth sighed a little crossly. "Nobody is perfect, Ben. I'm sure even the King and Queen of England know that. They're Christian, just as we are."

"Christian, my arse."

Elizabeth exhaled abruptly in a cross sigh once again. "Oh, for heaven's sake, Benjamin Davidson!"

Ben started grinning his mischievous grin. "You're still forgetting that I'm a Patriot, Elizabeth Cole," he chided teasingly.

Elizabeth gave Ben a rather cross face. True, she was getting rather tired of Ben making his tirades about the English monarchy, but more than that, if the opportunity to go back to the 18th century was within accessibility, Ben would have to learn to keep most of his opinions to himself whenever he happens to be in the presence of Loyalists; at least from her own point of view, especially when the political beliefs of most people on both parties were firmly in root. "If we ever go back to our time, you'd best be careful not to say such things in front of those who are loyal to the King," Elizabeth warned him seriously.

"I've already done that, especially in the company of Lissie's Grandfather," said Ben, not caring a bit about the consequences of opinionating his Patriot viewpoints. "'Twas like…being helpless."

"Pray, what do you mean?" inquired Elizabeth.

"Suppose _I_ was in the company of those who share _your_ political sympathies, _I_ cannot even express my own opinions without some bloody Tory _whacking_ me over the _head_!" Ben answered her finally.

Elizabeth made a rather wry face as she looked forward to the corridor. "I just think you like seeing other people, especially the ladies, go into spasms over your Patriot notions," she mused.

"Aye," put in Ben agreeably. "That _would_ be most funny."

Elizabeth shrugged. By that time, the two had already reached the entrance of the Guest Quarters.

"So, tell me, Lizzie," Ben asked Elizabeth. "What…_exactly_…are we having at the Guest Quarters?"

"Lissie said 'tis a surprise," Elizabeth answered him.

Ben scoffed a bit. "As if she's the one in charge here," he muttered grimly before talking in his normal voice tone. "Why does it _always_ have to be a surprise?"

"Because if I told you what would be going on in the Guest Quarters, you wouldn't have the nerve to come," said Elizabeth. "Much less the will." With that she rang the door chime.

Felicity's excited voice could echo a bit across the room, despite the muffling of the doors. "Come," she called. Both Elizabeth and Ben took their entrance into the Guest quarters and the automatic sliding doors shut behind the two.

Ben was very much taken aback in reaction. Chaplain Garland was sitting on the desk chair, where Ben usually sits. Silence enveloped the room. The Chaplain was watching Felicity doing a bit of tidying up with the living area's main sofa, which sort of reminded him of Martha in the Christian bible. Nan and William were busying their little selves over some sort of finger game which they made up.

Suddenly Nan cast her little eyes at Ben. "Ben!" she exclaimed excitedly. "Where have you been?"

"Shooting redcoats already?" piped up William.

"Just about, until this _Cole_ girl decided I shouldn't be venting my political rants over the soldiers of the King," Ben replied half-jokingly, as he recollected his thoughts. "Actually, I was making a political statement to the King and Queen of England in the form of bullet exchange?"

"What does that mean?" asked William.

"I shot them," Ben said simply.

"You _shot_ them?" asked Nan in dismay.

"Well,…only the pictures."

Elizabeth only sighed in a wry manner.

"'Twas fun, actually," Ben continued. "I could never really get to do that back in my time."

Chaplain Garland was a bit fascinated by the topic at hand. It wasn't often that he got to be treated to a few interesting historical issues. "You mind telling me why?" he asked Ben.

"Lack of pictures is what," Ben answered the Chaplain, getting a little carried away. Suspiciously he slowly and steadily turned around to face…Chaplain Garland.

"Who in God's name _is_ this person…thing…creature?" Ben asked loudly in his typical hotheaded manner.

Felicity walked up a bit a few inches from the sofa to face Ben and grinned her mischievous grin. "Benjamin Davidson," she began, as she gesticulated to the Chaplain, "Meet…the Reverend Francis Garland."

Garland smiled a bit flatly. "You, buddy-boy," he greeted, as he waved his semi-muscular right hand in a rather cursory manner."

Ben could not help studying the strange-looking man of God for a bit. "You're…you're the Reverend?" he asked the Chaplain in an overly-stiff manner.

"Seems to be the one and only," the Chaplain replied gruffly right away.

Ben swiftly turned to Elizabeth, as if she was the one responsible for bringing in that Reverend into their private Guest Quarters. "You _let_ him into this room without my _knowing_ it?" he whispered crossly and suspiciously.

Elizabeth shrank back a little in reaction to Ben's half-towering anger. "Well…um…" she began hesitantly and timidly, following by a fearful gulp in her throat.

Felicity knew that she had to calm Elizabeth a bit. "Ben," she said, "Some of us…at this point…are going to have a need of spiritual leader…especially in this time."

Ben did not bother listening to Felicity's plea. Instead, he continued studying the Chaplain skeptically in his own suspicious manner.

"Your clothes look…strange," he remarked.

"It's my contemporary clerical outfit of the 24th century, year of our Lord," replied the Chaplain.

Ben turned to the older girls. "What's his religious affiliation?" he asked right away, as if he was questing both Felicity and Elizabeth.

"Roman Catholic," answered the Chaplain without delay, as he decided to spare the girls the trouble.

Ben was stunned. "Roman Ca…" He stopped in his tracks, trying desperately in his mind what on earth the Chaplain was saying at this very minute. Then only one word came to mind. "As in _Papist_?" he asked loudly. That was the only word he could ever recall whenever there was talk of Roman Catholics in his time.

"Yeah," replied the Chaplain in a brisk manner. "Is there something wrong with that?"

Ben shot glances of dismay across the room, thinking to himself that to him there was definitely something wrong with Roman Catholicism in everything; its essence, its structure, and its customs. To him they were not only weird, but they were also an aberration to the whole Christian world. And the Chaplain was a reminder of such perceived weirdness and aberrations in the sense that he was going to convert them, when the contrary was the case. Chaplain Garland was assigned to look after the children but not alter them in a manner that would change their destinies and change the course of 18th century history in a drastic manner. But, of course, that was from Ben's point of view. Suddenly he let loose his ultimate tirade.

"You let a _Papist_ into this room?" he shouted loudly, which made the rest of the children cower in fear.

The Chaplain was watching the show with mild amusement. "Guess there is something wrong with that," he muttered to himself in a half-humorous manner.

Elizabeth tried to convince him as best as she could. "Ben, he is a nice man," she said a tad nervously. "I don't see why you should have to…"

"He's a Papist!" Ben cut in loudly in protestation. "A conniving son of perdition! God forbid if I should listen to him!"

Much to the dismay of the older girls and the little ones, as well as the nonchalant, cool attitude of the Chaplain himself, Ben was about to storm out of the room in wrecking rage when he hit the force field in the entranceway. The searing pain shot through every area of his body, making him stagger to the ground in a very abrupt manner. As Ben lay sprawling on the floor right side up, wincing in searing pain, Elizabeth and William were rather startled, but Felicity and Nan were dismayed. The Chaplain just widened his eyes in a casual manner.

"Serves _you_ right, Benjamin Davidson, for insulting the Reverend," Elizabeth declared coolly.

"I'll get a cold towel," said the Chaplain, as he stalked off to the bathroom at leisure.

In a short while, Chaplain Garland was back from the bathroom with a cold, wet towel. Meanwhile, both Felicity and Elizabeth dragged Ben to the front side of the bed and gently plopped him down on the front side. Felicity said "Thank you" to the Chaplain and took the towel from him, wherein she dabbed it on Ben's head and other areas of his teenage body affected by the force field.

"Is there anything I can do to help, Lissie?" asked Elizabeth in a sweetly considerate manner.

"Nay. I'll be fine," replied Felicity.

* * *

Minutes later…

Ben's vision was blurry. He was blurrily seeing Felicity on his left side and Elizabeth on his right. Nan and William were also seen on the right corner of his eye as well, and the Chaplain could be seen in the middle, kneeling squat at him. The blurring images were almost clouding his eyes with tears, in the same manner as that of victim of tear-gas.

"What…what happened to me?" asked Ben almost deliriously.

"Apparently, you were the inadvertent victim of a hundred-watt force field, which somehow set up on ya before ya started getting' kind of…upset over the idea of havin' a Papist in this room," the Chaplain answered him frankly.

Ben's mind was racing on the matter. "Who…who set it up?" he queried further.

Chaplain Garland was now casting disapproving eyes at the two older girls. "Girls?" he asked them. Both Felicity and Elizabeth cast a brief but almost leisurely glance at poor Ben. Ben looked at them one by one, turning his head after having Felicity in his view.

"'Twas you…girls…who did it?" he asked.

Both girls were reluctant to admit their mischief-making. Nevertheless they half-faced the Chaplain. "Aye," they rejoined together.

Even with that admittance, Ben still wasn't through with blaming the older girls. "Why are you doing this to me?" he asked them in a rather whiny tone of voice.

"You were making everyone…uncomfortable," said Elizabeth a little nervously.

"How?"

Felicity sighed. It seemed then she had difficulty finding the words to explain the seemingly unnecessary mischief-making that she and her friend were engaged in.

"You were ruining the mood is all," Elizabeth answered for Felicity.

"Mood? What mood?"

"We were having a good time,…" began Felicity, "…And all of a sudden, you just had to _ruin_ it all."

"So I did."

"And it's _not_ good, Benjamin Davidson," Felicity put in rather chidingly. "If you were invited to somebody else's house…"

"Which is not likely, of course, given the opposition of…"

"Doesn't matter," Felicity cut in almost rudely. "If you were invited, and if you were to be acting in this way…"

"I feel a sneeze coming," Ben interrupted.

"Oh, God," sighed Felicity in exasperation. "What now."

A sneeze definitely was about to come on Ben. He started sniffing, and then with his face grimacing, he took a deep breath, then…KERCHOO!

"Bless you," said the Chaplain genially.

"Why, thank you, my good man," Ben put in, not bothering to know who said those two words; only that he knew basically that it was definitely a male voice. Shrugging her dainty shoulders, Felicity continued dabbing the wet cloth over and around Ben's head as the Chaplain cleared his throat just enough for the children to hear.

"Miss Cole has told me fascinating stories of where she came from," he said. "I could almost believe her.

Ben kept wincing through the pain that was being inflicted by the cold, dripping water from the dabbing wet cloth, although such pains were originally inflicted against him by the force field. "Aye," he put in. "She said she was from…oh!" He felt a bit stung in the physical sense as pain shot up his forehead. "…The North of England," he continued quickly.

"The North of England, you say?" said the Chaplain, looking and feeling pretty interested at the same time as he tried to take down every word of interest into his semi-classical mind. "In York County?" He mused briefly. "Yeah, Miss Cole told me that's where she was from during one of our…how do I put it…religious conversations, so to speak…. That reminds me; one of those influential houses fought with the House of Lancaster during the War of the Roses of of 1455 to 1487, and I think it had something to do with how the Tudor dynasty took over, basically speaking, if I so recall correctly."

Felicity just shook her head. Not that most of Chaplain Garland's constant stream of digressions were disturbing her, but it was mainly due to her having to constantly nag Ben about keeping his personal opinions to himself for the sake of his friends.

"We're worry Ben is this way," said Felicity.

"Oh, please," the Chaplain articulated, scoffing up a bit. "I've encountered folk like that when I was his age. 'Twas no different."

Ben was acting rather whiny again. "What's the man doing in our room," he asked in a noisy tone of voice on account of his bodily pain.

"Didn't you listen?" Elizabeth asked him calmly. "We invited the Reverend to come over to the Guest Quarters?"

"Why?" asked Ben, his inflection descending again in tantrum fashion. "To impose Papism on us?"

"Hardly!" exclaimed Elizabeth, her mouth agape. _The nerve_, she thought to herself, as if Ben thought that the Chaplain was going to start acting like a strict schoolteacher in all things Christian.

"The Reverend has some very interesting stories to tell about his life," put in Felicity with an impish grin.

"Consider them entertainment," added Elizabeth enthusiastically. Felicity dabbed the wet cloth around Ben's cheeks as Ben turned his dizzy head over to Felicity.

"Lissie…" he asked with a slight grimace. His vision was almost getting cleared. Felicity started looking at him in a motherly sort of way. "Do you mind telling me…what kind of…non-Anglican Reverend…gets this kind of welcoming reception…from you girls?"

"I'm a chaplain," Garland answered right away. "Folks like a man of God. Especially your female friends. Not that you'll care."

"No they don't!" Ben retorted in whiny exclamation, while wincing in searing pain over the stinging of the cloth and dastardly force field. "Men of God make everyone feel guilty and judged!"

There was a slight pause. The rest of the children look at him rather disapprovingly. The Chaplain, however, never seemed to mind, much to his hidden amusement.

"Well, for me, it does!" ranted Ben further. "You should listen to the Reverend Clyde at Bruton Parish! He keeps damning the unbelievers to hell, as if they're scum of the earth! And because I'm a boy, that type of thing is always happening to me!" He started glancing at both Felicity and Elizabeth, who hadn't said anything at the moment. Not that whatever Ben was saying was or was not making sense to them. "Well, you girls are so damn lucky about not having to bear those horridly annoying tirades that the Reverend Clyde throws at us during his big damn sermons!"

There was a pause of silence again. Then all of a sudden Chaplain Garland started chuckling aloud. Elizabeth looked at Ben rather disapprovingly.

"Well, I can't really chide you, Ben, about not swearing in front of us," she said. "Even the Reverend Garland does that, too." But then, of course, that was just another one of the Chaplain's ways of acting manly in an environment that he considered almost feminine from his point of view. Elizabeth looked down. "'Tis rather scandalous, if you ask me," she muttered under her breath.

"Hey, don't get all holier-than-thou on me, golden sister," the Chaplain scolded rather angrily, wagging an accusatory right hand index finger directly at Elizabeth, who instinctively shrank back a little in frightful reaction. Following that rather sharp chiding, he scoffed and simply shrugged his shoulders in response, as if he could hear the latter statement that Elizabeth had just made. Elizabeth gradually faced him a tad shyly.

"You know, Reverend?" she began. "There seem to be times when we know not whether Sunday has come and gone."

"That's cause ain't nobody's that conscious about that particular day," The Chaplain answered her in a very frank manner. He gave his answer some brief thought before he continued. "Well, to be a tad accurate, a majority. Some of the crew keep a calendar." He gave a suspicious look at Elizabeth. "Why?"

"Because on Sundays, we don't do work," Ben informed him.

"Really?" asked the Chaplain, half-amused. "Back in your day?"

The silence of the children could almost imply to the Chaplain himself that the answer was a positive one to his question.

"My God," he reflected directly to the children, especially Elizabeth, and possibly Ben as well. "They do seem to take the Third Commandment quite literally back in your day, do they."

Now it was Felicity's turn to clear her throat. "Ahem," she began a little loudly, as she felt a surge of desperation to change the subject. "Can we get on with the storytelling, please?" she asked as politely and diplomatically as she could to the Chaplain, as well as her friends and siblings.

"Yes, let's," agreed Elizabeth eagerly.

"I'm curious, too," Nan put in.

"Me, too," added William in the chorus.

Chaplain Garland made a face that looked pretty wry with a tough-looking demeanor that could accurately be described as war-veteran-ish. "Storytelling, is it?" he asked the children. "Hmm…let's see…why don't we let the Davidson boy recover a bit, 'cause really, I don't wanna hafta repeat the whole thing for his own sake."

Elizabeth thought for a moment. "I suppose we could wait a bit," she assented most thoughtfully.

The next few minutes were in session. Each of the children tried their best to kill the time. Nan and William both shared a fairy-tale book on the famous 18th century English classic children's tale called _Jack the Giant-Killer_. Both Felicity and Elizabeth gossiped to each other about Ben and his developing personality, and on occasion, the Chaplain himself would butt in on the various topics the older girls themselves were engaged in, as well as make some rather intrusive queries about the book that the two little mites were reading.

After the time lapsed for what seemed to be forever, Ben started struggling to get up from his slumped position near the width of the main bed, where both the older girls were stationed like Roman infantrymen near Christ's sepulcher, or for that matter, like those same soldiers near an imprisoned St. Peter (except, of course, that the guards were a little more gentle in nature and personality.)

"Ben?" asked Felicity, taking notice of Ben's gradual pseudo-reveille.

Ben exhaled in a most abrupt manner as he faced Felicity like a frightened animal before calming and steadying his very self down. "I'm all right, Lissie," he said quickly. "I'm fine. Really. 'Twas because of you girls and damn 'force field'."

The Chaplain peered closely at Ben's face, and from Ben's point of view the Chaplain himself could almost be seen as having a face that was so huge and so domineering like that of a strict British army general. "Awake already, I take it?" he almost asked him.

Ben only gave a quick and cursory response. "Aye," he answered.

"Splendid," replied the Chaplain, as she withdrew himself to his proper sitting but half-reclining position on the swivel desk chair. "Perhaps…we should go on. After all…we do have a long way to go, both in past and present."

"What about the future?" asked Ben, not bothering to know if his question was making an ounce of sense.

"That remains to be seen," the Chaplain answered quickly.

* * *

And so, the beginning legacy of Chaplain Francis O'Neill Garland begins…


	43. Chapter 43

_**Star Trek: The Next Generation – Souvenirs**_

**Written By:**_** Commander Cody CC-2224**_

CHAPTER 43

The children immediately seated themselves in the main sofa, as Chaplain Garland moved the swivel chair a few feet away from the sofa itself; not too far, but just enough for him to face the children a bit closer, and just enough for him to tell his story in a manner where the children would have little difficulty making out every interesting word he would utter. As the Chaplain began the first few words of his life story, the children were starting to find themselves swept away into a theme of happy thoughts and interesting times.

"I was no saint to begin with," began the Chaplain right away at the very first opportunity the children had started to among themselves. And then they listed to what he had to say, as if Chaplain Garland was Jesus the Christ himself, speaking with domineering authority.

In the relation process, the images of past times were not only enveloping the children's minds, but also the Chaplain's as well. As the Chaplain narrated every event with every ounce of detail as best as he could, he could almost feel being swept back into his own memories. His first stage of his life story was at this point starting out in a local town in California's capital city, Sacramento, roughly around the very early part of the 24th century, putting him at exactly the year 2305.

"Well, put it this way; my childhood was…for the most part…insignificant. For the most part I was raised as a Roman Catholic, born and bred. A cradle Catholic, you could say. The fortunate part of all this is that my loved ones and I ain't persecuted for the faith we choose to belong to, compared to back in your day." The Chaplain shot a wry and disapproving look at the children, which could almost imply that they, if back in their time, would be somewhat responsible for the persecution of his religious compatriots.

"We have not persecuted anybody, if that's what you mean, Reverend," said Ben.

"Oh." He shook off the thought right away. "So anyway," he continued, as he got back to the story, "Nothing unusual happened, no nothing, no interestin' times. Those times come during the much later part of my legacized life.

"My mom and dad…"

"'Mom' and 'Dad'?" asked Felicity.

"Short for 'Mother' and 'Father'."

"Is that what you call them back in your time?" asked Elizabeth.

"Yeah. Look, ladies, ya want me to finish the story or not?"

"Yes, please," said the older girls.

"Fine. Now…continuing on the story…"

_

* * *

_

_June 23, 2311 A.D._

_Marin__ County, California_

_Seven-year-old Francis Garland was busy marveling the inside of a local store. The area where he lived in was near the outskirts of the capital city, and the surroundings were arid, dusty, and dry that only a stoic could put up with it all. His ordinary-looking grandfather, who was the store owner, could be seen standing near the counter, next to his antiquated rusty, bronze-coated cash register. Francis' older brother, two years older than he was, had arrived at the store before Francis did, and was _

_He waved back, and Francis waved back to him a tad shyly. Then he dashed around the store._

* * *

"So…you had a brother with you?" asked Ben.

"Yup."

"Where's he now?"

"Well…, he's now serving on board the _U.S.S. Anselm_, an Oberth-class starship in the very same field as mine."

"Chaplain, you mean."

"Correct. But that's not until much, much later.

"Now, most of the time, I for the most part stayed at my local suburbs. Till school day, I was inflicted with a condition that most boys experience."

"Really?" asked William. "What's that?"

"William," said Nan a little disapprovingly.

"I was a dyslexic," answered the Chaplain right away. "'Round that time, through most of my high school years, most of our friends and acquaintances thought that I would never amount to anything."

"What's a dys-lex-ic?" asked William. It had something to do with boys, which is why William himself was curious about the condition.

"It's…a type of neurological condition that impedes on the ability to perceive certain words and images. It happens frequently to most boys."

"So you're saying that that might happen to me…or William?" Ben asked him.

"Perhaps not. But even if you do…well, I proved them wrong. However, because of my dyslexic condition, I was forced to work nearly ten times as hard as that of the average student."

_

* * *

_

In school, Francis, now thirteen years of age, was furiously struggling over a Starfleet-issued PADD.

* * *

"That must have been…frustrating for you," said Felicity a little considerately.

"I thought so, too. Ain't easy being a dyslexic, so to speak. But anyway, where there was a will, there was a way."

"So what happened after that?" asked Elizabeth.

"Well…, eventually I struggled long and hard for more than enough until I managed to graduate from academia in a rather adequate manner."

"Must have been a triumph for you," put in Ben.

"In a way, yes."

"And then what happened?" asked Felicity with an impish grin.

"I'm trying to get to that, darlin'," said the Chaplain almost emphatically. "Anyway, after I graduated from high school, I then decided to seek enrollment in Starfleet Academy. You could say the entire Academy was…equal opportunity, so to speak, thank God. After fairly grueling study hours in there…"

"Grueling?" asked Ben rather skeptically. "This…this is the future. I thought things would get a whole lot easier in this time."

"Grueling for the mind is what," said the Chaplain. "Not to mention the stress of having to complete your assignments exactly on time; though I must admit, the technology does help an awful lot.

"Do you ever get to meet fancy ladies?" asked Felicity impishly.

"Well, I didn't meet any fancy ladies in that time. That comes later."

"When?" asked Nan a little impatiently. Childhood crushes, especially those occurring between adolescents, for some seemingly weird reason, seemed to be little Nan's favorite topics of discussion.

"In a few moments," said the Chaplain. "But before all that stuff, I was first assigned as an ensign on board the _U.S.S. Odyssey_. The very same starship class that the _Enterprise_ is in. A blessing from God, you could call it, 'cause almost any assignment to a Galaxy-class starship is considered a rather prestigious one. 'Cause, really, you know how hugh-ish Galaxy-class starships are."

"No doubt," put in Ben as he rubbed the area between his nose and mouth out of quirky habit.

"For the rest of my twenties and thirties, that was the assignment I covered during the early part of my career in Starfleet."

"And your crush with some fancy ladies?" asked Nan.

Chaplain Garland exhaled in sighing form. He was almost unwilling to talk about such things, but since whatever infatuation he had with any young women was part of the story, he seemed obligated to relate it to the children.

"Yup. That all comes in."

"Who did you meet?" asked Ben rather curiously.

"I met a gal. In your vocabulary it's slang for 'girl'. And yes, she was…"

_

* * *

_

Twenty-year-old Francis was busy as a bee, working with electronic tools on a computer workstation that needed desperate fixing-up. The computer system itself was function normally, but the ergonomic aspects of the workstation furniture itself needed a bit of improvement.

_A few minutes later, a young girl in her late teens and a year younger than Francis himself had just arrived to the workstation. Her wavy, half-curly auburn-red hair swished sexily about her head, and her snappy eyes were a twinkling blue-gray. She was wearing a blue uniform shirt with a combadge attached, including a tight pair of blue jeans, and toting a black Nike backpack. She stopped where she was, observing curiously as to what on earth Francis was doing at this time of the day._

"_Um…excuse me," she said, after clearing her throat. Francis immediately stopped his work and took a glance at her._

_The girl decided to get on with the problem at hand, hoping a practical solution would come right away. "Um…it seems, as you can see, that almost all the computer workstations are occupied. The one you're working on currently isn't; and by that…I mean that you're not using the computer. So…do you mind if I might be able use it?"_

_Francis cleared his throat. "Not at all, Missy," he replied. "Superintendent told me to get that stupid workstation furniture fixed, so I'm afraid you might just have to kneel while you work."_

"_Hmm…" the girl said rather skeptically. She looked at Francis in the eye. "Perhaps I might you be able to help you with whatever you're doing."_

_Francis chuckled to himself, unable to keep himself from grinning on account of the pretty pixie-faced teenager. "You?" he asked, his inflection down._

"_That's right," answered the girl. "Maybe I can help you." Without waiting for another word, the girl immediately crouched under the desk, her face toward the underside of the desk itself. "Here," she said. "Why don't you hand me the pneumatic drill?"_

_Sighing in a frustrated manner and rolling his eyes discourteously, Francis handed the drill to the girl as courteously as he could. In almost no time, the girl managed to get whatever screws there were to be screwed under the desk into their proper places._

"_That be it?" the girl asked Francis._

"_Yup."_

"_Don't underestimate the power of girls," said the teenager._

"_I won't," answered Francis a little hesitantly. "At least, I'll try not to."_

_The girl turned to him. "What's your name?" she asked._

"_Mine's Francis O'Neill Garland. What's yours?"_

"_Rachel," the girl answered. "Rachel Lauren Cavanaugh."_

"_Whoa."_

"_Yup."_

_For the first time in his life, Francis then could not help staring into Rachel's twinkling blue-gray eyes. Her wavy red hair also touched him off in his heart in a passionate manner. The girl looked back at Francis in the same manner, unable for the first time in her life to keep herself from admiring him, both in body and heart. Rachel knew that Francis was thoughtful and would not mind in having his own way most of the time; Francis knew that Rachel was not that much of a haughty individual to begin with, and she had a caring personality along with her, which could almost bring not only men, but women and children straight to her. It seemed then that what both Francis and Rachel were experiencing now was love at first sight._

* * *

Chaplain Garland paused himself as he set his snappy eyes at Felicity. Felicity herself was starting to feel rather uncomfortable with the Chaplain's seemingly incessant stare for what seemed for her to be a long time.

"Was what?" asked Elizabeth. Slowly she eyed the Chaplain's gaze and using her wits about her, triangulated the gaze to its target: her best friend, Felicity. She immediately faced the Chaplain.

"Was she like her?" Elizabeth asked him right away.

"By Jove, you're right!" exclaimed Chaplain Garland. "By all means, the gal I met looked almost exactly like you, Miss Felicity, 'cept her eyes was blue like the heavens."

"She was redheaded, right?" asked Felicity.

"Yup. And her eyes were…a twinkling hazel."

"Like mine," put in Nan.

"Somewhat."

"What was her name?" asked Elizabeth.

Chaplain Garland thought for a moment. "Rachel," he answered. "Rachel Lauren Cavanaugh."

"Sounds a bit…Irish," remarked Ben a little skeptically.

"Her ancestors were…Irish a bit ago," said the Chaplain. Some of her parents were…English…and Dutch. Makes for a bit of an exciting combo, don't you think?"

"I guess…" Elizabeth mused.

"So did you get married and lived happily ever after?" asked Felicity impishly. Elizabeth giggled quietly.

"Of course. But before we could do that, Rachel had to go through what seems to be a very lengthy and rigorous examination of the faith, 'cause the whole damn Church discourages mixed marriages; and by mixed marriages, I mean marriages between two love partners of different religions, cause of the strife on religions associated with these types of marriages. Not that racial origins don't matter much in this century, but, well…

"So, after those rigorous religious examinations and gradual conversion to my faith, Rachel and I eventually got married. At my town's local, homely chapel. The entire celebration was very, very festive, 'specially among the locals of our town."

_

* * *

_

The church bells back in the local

_Marin__ County district pealed its joyful tunes. The local crowds gathered outside to witness the finale of the blissful marriage ceremony of Francis and Rachel Garland. Francis was in his black Starfleet uniform, and Rachel was in a fairly loose-fitting satin white wedding gown, which trailed at least two feet. Francis' face shone in the Southern Californian sunlight, and so did Rachel's. Her hair swished playfully in the sunny breeze._

_One elderly-looking gentleman stepped out of the crowd without the slightest hesitation and snatched Francis' left hand in an ultra-friendly handshake, congratulating him. At that point, Rachel's mother stepped up briskly to where the newlyweds were standing, mired down by the excited congregation. The mother came up to her newlywed daughter and embraced her tight. Then after that, Rachel excitedly clung to her manly beloved and she and Francis kissed._

* * *

"Anyway, it was a marvy, Catholic wedding ceremony, and even our time together during that day was…memorable. Just think about it. Back in my hometown in California. 'Twas such that you could almost feel you were at home, as if you were a part of the town itself. Just like your town in Williamsburg."

"Aye," put in Felicity dreamily.

"That sounds so…ideal," Ben remarked. "Lissie," he called, as he turned his head to face Felicity, "When we grow up, and plan to marry, why don't we have a church wedding?"

"That would sound…grand," answered Felicity. "But I'm afraid 'twill be a long time before we can have that. Besides, I'm not even sure if…"

"…If what?" asked Ben, concerned about Felicity's doubts about his infatuation for him.

Felicity just shook her head. "Never mind," she said, waving her hand in a rather hurried manner.

"So what happened after you got married?" asked Elizabeth.

"It was 'back to duty' time," said the Chaplain. "The fortunate part about all this was that Rachel was on the duty roster on the _Odyssey_'s crew personnel, so for the most part, we were able to keep in touch with each other throughout the ship. During the evenings we could be together, and do all sorts of these…grown-up stuff…with each other."

_

* * *

_

U.S.S. Odyssey…

_In the private crew quarters in the vessel's saucer section, Francis and Rachel were making love to each other in a mild fashion. Rachel was seated directly over her beloved's lap, and Francis was propped upright at the back end of the bed, gently rocking his wife sideways in a lullaby manner, with his arms wrapped over Rachel's body, near and underneath her perfectly formed and firm bosom. Then Francis put his face near Rachel's wavy, flowing red hair as he stroked it lightly. He really loved the sensation, and it brought him together with his beloved._

* * *

Ben was almost grinning with glee. "You mean to say…as…"

"Oh, heck with it!" exclaimed the Chaplain in feigned exasperation. "You've got little people who shouldn't know that kind of stuff! I'm sure you know what I mean, Mr. Davidson, but, really, I can't bring myself to describe the intimate man-and-wife stuff in front of you young innocents. You wanna talk about them, find with me, though I don't encourage it, but I ain't gonna take responsibility before God for personally leading you all into a sea of sin."

"All right, I get it," replied Ben a little sheepishly.

"So…" continued the Chaplain, "Our time on board was…smooth…for the most part. Rachel was in the Science Division…meaning blue uniform,…and I was in the league of engineers. She could also be a minor field nurse, if she wanted to;…but for the most part, in the Science Division, Rachel was involved in the field of studying the various gaseous anomalies and categorization. She also was in Stellar Cartography as well. Man, how she loved the stars. By which I mean the whole damn 'verse."

_

* * *

_

__

During normal business hours, Rachel was as busy as a honeybee watching the monitors in Stellar Cartography as she punched in a handful of numerical figures into her PADD, with the fairy-like flick of the stylus. The figures were displayed on the computer charts, which she was currently tending vigilantly to.

* * *

The rest of the children began to feel bored to death by the smooth lifestyle between Francis and Rachel had in the past, but to Elizabeth, the tranquil life was a dream to her. But to her a tranquil life meant a life lived in a fairly rural setting back in her time, or perhaps in a less crowded area in the suburbs of Williamsburg. Elizabeth could be practical most of the time, but sometimes her avid blue eyes would gaze dreamily on things she longed at the bottom of her heart.

"And now we get to the sad parts," the Chaplain continued, his tone now brisk but a bit melancholic. Elizabeth was immediately awoken from her very brief daydreams by the Chaplain's fairly booming voice.

"Why, what's sad?" asked Elizabeth with a soulful look of concern in her petite face.

"Well, you see,…after nearly a year on board the _Odyssey_,…possibly my marriage as well…, my darling wife…was killed on a search and rescue mission on a planet in the middle of Cardassian-held territory for other Federation personnel stranded. The…um…Delta Flyer she was in got shot down in the middle of that territory. The pilot got killed, and few managed to survive, including Rachel. But when the Cardassians found her…

_

* * *

_

__

August, 15, 2327 A.D.

_1600 hours_

_Dag'Nar Desert Wadi, Planet Cardassia_

_A lone Delta Flyer was soaring over the hot arid desert landscapes of Dag'Nar on Planet Cardassia. The Flyer bore Federation markings, as well as the name of the ship it was deployed from._

_Inside the craft, a Combat Search-and Rescue team of five were seated on opposite seating rows on the craft's length armed with Type III phaser rifles. Three of the personnel were men and two were women, save for one man with a blue face. Each of the crew was wearing fairly loose-fitting desert sand-colored fatigues, which would aid in their camouflage. Their faces were straight for the most part, though a handful of the young crew were a bit nervous, given that for some of them this was their first mission directly into enemy lines. The squad was tasked with safely extracting the crew of a recently shot down shuttlecraft sent from Odyssey, and speed was critical, as there would be some imminent acrimony between the Cardassians and the Federation if they were discovered._

_At the cockpit, both pilot and co-pilot, in the same gear as the squad members were strapped in their seats, as the pilot calmly guided the Flyer to its intended destination. Because of the bright mid-day sun, both of them had visors over their eyes, which cut the glare significantly. Not only that, the visors' electronic features allowed the pilots to scan the arid desert grounds for tracking signals that hopefully would emanate from the crash site._

_Rachel Cavanaugh Garland volunteered as a minor field nurse, which could be a bit handy, in case there were some injured crewmen. Clenched to her hands on the top side's handle was a MedPack, with a large Red Cross embossed on the middle top part of the case. She had nothing to say at the moment; pretty much all she could do at this point was wait and pray that everything might turn out all right._

_Whether her prayers would be answered remained to be seen. Because right now, everything was happening contrary to what she hoped would not happen._

_Two minutes later, a streaking sound could be heard in the middle of the planet's atmosphere. In the pilot's cockpit area, the radar screen was flashing frantically. An offensive weapons warning light lit up scarily._

"_Incoming!" shouted the pilot._

_A Cardassian surface-to-air missile was streaking directly at them. The pilot immediately veered off to his left to avoid the incoming missile, which missed them narrowly._

"_That was goddamn close!" remarked the pilot loudly. "Where the hell did that come from?"_

"_Dunno," replied his co-pilot tersely and hastily. "Whatever it is, something sure the hell…"_

_Another offensive missile was heading straight at them. The pilot ducked low, then veered off to his right to avoid it. The missile passed them, but that wasn't the end of their troubles._

_Down below, automated anti-aircraft turrets were firing disruptor particles directly at the Delta Flyer. Some shots missed, but the finale came when two disruptor beams hit the craft directly._

_The computer-based cockpit instruments lit up like crazy. Loud banging could be heard all over the ship as it jerked violently several times. The pilot tried calibrating his control systems, but to no success._

"_We're fried! I've got no control!"_

_Flight instruments indicated that the Delta Flyer was speeding downwards, and jerking back and forth like a horse wanting to kick off its owner. _

"_Mayday! Mayday! We're going down!" The co-pilot called frantically over the radio. "I repeat, we're going down!"_

"_Avionics fluctuating!" cried the pilot. "I can't stabilize this goddamn bird! We've gotta land! I say again, we've gotta land!"_

"_Do it!"_

_The pilot immediately cocked his head back to the compartment. "Everybody, strap yourselves in!" he ordered loudly._

_In haste, the squad members buckled their waist-based seat belts and clicked on their shoulderbelts tight on their seats, and gripped the metal handlebars at each of their opposite side ends._

_The craft was streaking out of control as it hovered a relative few meters above the ground._

_"Get the backup!" the pilot ordered the co-pilot._

_"Trying!" The co-pilot frantically pressed a few buttons like a pianist, but he threw up his hands. "No use, sir!"_

_"Get me at least something!"_

_The co-pilot tried again, until he managed to get the shaking craft relatively stabilized on manual control._

_"Backup at 10 percent!" informed the co-pilot._

_"We're just gonna have to glide 'er in!"_

_Seconds later, the Delta Flyer touched down and ploughed into the desert sands. The friction between the craft and the sandy sea gradually halted the speeding craft. It took nearly half a minute for the craft to come to a grinding halt._

_Five seconds of silence followed before the pilot broke it._

_"Is everyone all right back there?" he shouted._

_Each of the squad members nodded._

_"Simms?" he asked the co-pilot, who was slightly unconscious. "All right. Not all right." Immediately he un-strapped himself from his cockpit chair, and then activated a built-in PRC subspace tracker. It was standard procedure for pilots involved in a crash to activate their location trackers to attract rescue ships._

_The pilot trudged out of the crashed Delta Flyer to get a visual lay of the arid desert land for himself. The bright sun was getting into his eyes, so he shielded them with his visor, as well as his right hand. Not spotting anything unusual, he trudged back to the shelter of the Flyer._

_"Looks like nothing usual back there," he informed the squad._

_"Nothing unusual?" retorted one of the crewmen. "In case you haven't noticed, we've got shot down! Does that count for 'nothing unusual'?"_

_The pilot breathed a frustrated sigh. After a few seconds, when it was totally unexpected, a roaring of engines could be heard from above. Immediately the pilot struggled excitedly outside the Flyer again to see who's coming, hoping it would be the friendly rescue ships._

_But instead of Federation craft coming to the rescue, it was Cardassian military gunships on the offensive. The gunships were a pale deathly gray, rugged but fairly sleek in appearance, and its appearance was intended to be intimidating to modern battlefield enemies. The two-seater cockpit windshield angled at an average of forty-five degrees, and its egress doors could be slid open to the directions to the back of the craft itself._

_Immediately after the gunships landed, a handful of Cardassian shock troops armed with rugged desert-colored Cardassian disruptor rifles emerged. Without hesitation, the captain ordered the crash site personnel to be rounded up, and quickly they obeyed. In less than two minutes, the rescue squad was rounded up at gunpoint._

_"State your purpose of being here!" the Cardassian squad captain ordered harshly to the pilot._

_"We…um…we come in peace, sir," the pilot stuttered hesitantly._

_The squad captain struck the pilot violently on the left cheek with the disruptor rifle butt. "Your purpose, human imbecile!" he ordered in that same harsh tone of voice._

_The pilot tried to regain his senses. "Our purpose…was to…"_

_"Don't tell him!" Rachel yelled desperately. In response the Cardassian squad captain pointed his disruptor rifle directly at her. Rachel only gave a defiant look, pursing her lips._

_The squad captain signaled one of his henchmen. Immediately one of the troopers stepped up to a crewwoman and pointed his rifle at her. Then the captain approached the scared pilot._

"_Tell us," he snarled, "Or we shoot one of your crew."_

_The pilot only shook his head shakily in reply. Rachel did the same, too. In response, the squad captain gave a hand signal, and the trooper fired a single blast from his rifle, shooting the crewwoman in cold blood. She dropped dead to the sandy ground milliseconds after the first shot was fired directly at her._

"_Aaaugh!" cried Rachel, unable to contain herself. Her mouth utterly agape, and her hands near her mouth, Rachel was horrified beyond all horrors at such unwarranted barbarism the Cardassians were displaying. Then the squad captain faced the pilot furiously._

"_Tell me!" he yelled._

"_C…-c-can't," the pilot answered shakily. The squad captain gave another hand signal, and the trooper shot a crewman in cold blood, too._

_This prompted Rachel to face the captain defiantly. "Have you no _shame_?" she said to him bitterly, accenting strongly on the last word._

_He signaled again, and another crewman was shot on sight._

_"This is your last chance," the squad captain snarled at the pilot._

_"You…you might as well kill all of us," he said shakily again. "We will never betray our comrades. I cannot tell you without my superior officer's position."_

_Rachel immediately handed a combadge to the squad captain, who snatched it rudely from her. He began speaking into it._

_"This is Captain Maras of Cardassian Squad 57! I have your personnel under hostage!"_

_"I heard gunshots," replied the Odyssey captain. "My scanners say that you now have only four of them left alive."_

_"And I will shoot them all if they don't tell me what their purpose of being here is!" yelled the squad captain._

_"You do that, you'll get a retribution far worse than what you do against them," warned the Odyssey captain._

_Without another word, the Cardassian squad captain flung aside the combadge and signaled his trooper again. The trooper fired three blasts from his rifle, killing the last three of the rescue squad participants._

_Approaching the pilot once again, the captain took out a Cardassian combat knife, which he held too close to the pilot's neck. Without hesitation, the captain slit the pilot's throat in cold blood. The pilot dropped dead on his back right away._

_Rachel covered her mouth, terrified by the sight of blood and dead bodies recently rendered by the Cardassians. Tears escaped from her eyes. She felt her entire body shaking, as she shrank back to the side of the crashed Delta Flyer as the Cardassian squad captain approached her. Slowly and menacingly he took out a Varon-T disruptor._

* * *

"What happened?" asked Ben. "Did they…kill her?"

"Yeah."

"How?" asked Elizabeth tactfully.

"They…, um…, they were interrogating her about what she was up to on that craft, and from the way the reports say it, she said something to the effect that they were a rescue crew on a rescue ship. Granted, the rescue ops were armed, of course, but had no intention of going on an offensive, unless we were directly engaged at on foot. But…for some damnably unknown reason, other for the sport of seeing people suffer, they shot her in the middle of her heart with a Varon-T, and left her to suffer cruelly."

_

* * *

_

Poor Rachel Garland looked the squad captain with pleading blue eyes, hoping he could make him see mercy. But to no avail. There was no hope of escape for the redheaded damsel-in-distress.

_The Varon-T Disruptor was a weapon that great capability of inflicting slow, agonizing damage against its victims. Such weapons were banned by the Federation because of their notorious natures, but only an anonymous few managed to keep a handful._

"_You can't kill me," said Rachel. "I'm a field medic, which is the same as saying I'm civilian personnel. There are rules against targeting such people."_

_The squad captain didn't listen. "Kill her," he ordered._

"_I can't," replied his executive officer._

"_What? Why?"_

_"This human female says she's a field medic. There are rules against targeting civilian personnel. If we kill her, we create an unforgivable incident between us and the Federation."_

_The squad captain made a screwy face at his executive officer that said "Screw you" and walked up to Rachel._

"_I will spare you if you will strip yourself of all respectable dignity," he said._

_This condition shocked Rachel because it implied giving her whole body to her rather than to her beloved Francis. To her, it was adultery. It was a sin._

_"I cannot do such a thing," she answered him determinedly. "My religious beliefs tell me it is a sin." She paused herself for a second. "Besides, I have a husband. I'm married," she added finally._

_The captain made a wry face. Then he cocked his Varon-T and pointed it at her directly. Rachel braced herself, preparing to die a martyr rather than sacrifice her dignity and her soul. The captain fired a single shot, and immediately she started writhing in pain, clutching her chest tight, as if something was burning inside her. He immediately took his leave of the scene of the crash site, as Rachel's agonizing screams echoed across the desert wadi._

* * *

"Another rescue operation was now on the offensive this time. They managed to rescue whatever was left of the rescue operation, including the stranded Federation personnel. Rachel was taken to the ER, but her injuries were far beyond repair. No matter what else we tried doing…she died. It's that damn simple." He gulped back in sadness. "I just couldn't never forget the time when I held hands and stroked her pretty ginger-red hair during her dying moments, and I just couldn't never forgive the Cardassians from the bottom of my heart for taking my wife away from me for no damn good reason."

_

* * *

_

In the Emergency Medical Center, Francis watched pitiably as his beloved Rachel faded away like a wilting flower. In a few seconds, she died with he eyes opened wide, and her mouth opened a little, as the light faded from her eyes.

_Francis broke down over the body of his young wife and cried. He was unable to help it. The whole ordeal of seeing Rachel suffer and die was really unbearable for him._

* * *

Finding himself unable to appreciate the agony of the entire death scene through the Chaplain's narrations, Ben thought the whole scenario was extremely weird, but weirdness was pretty much irrelevant to a bunch of female compatriots, whose minds at this point were occupied now by the victimization of poor Rachel Cavanaugh. It was a typical girl-thing for them.

"I'm sorry," said Elizabeth quietly in an almost solemn manner.

"She shouldn't have died," Nan remarked a little resentfully.

"I'm afraid good things never last forever, darlin'," said the Chaplain sadly. "And that was something I could never forget for the rest of my life. That thought, however, kept overwhelming me to the point of falling into despair."

_

* * *

_

__

In his room, Francis was steeped in drunkenness and despair, as he had an awful lot of trouble getting his loss over Rachel. He constantly asked himself whether he kept pleading for her life, and he ended up losing her as a result; for he remembers painfully from Scripture that "He who keeps his life will lose it, and he who loses his life for my sake will find it." A bottle of Jim Beam was perched on a desk near him; he was drinking huge amounts of alcoholic beverages to relieve his much-tortured mind.

* * *

"My depression was getting so severe that I was recommended for psychological counseling. But really, if you think about it, what I really needed…perhaps _wanted_…was spiritual renewal. It so happened that there was a chaplain on board the _Odyssey_; Fr. Toby Gatchanavitch Leessa, the half-Russian, half-Betazed clergyman whom I personally consulted with him. He talked me through my own damn personal problems, the loss, and all that shit. For a time, I managed to cope fairly…and find the spiritual renewal I so desperately needed.

The children were a bit wide-eyed over the matter of a clergyman of different alien origin.

"Eventually, I was back on duty after a torturous journey in the throes of great depression. But there came to be a point in my career in Starfleet where I was forced to choose between doing the right thing…and getting punished for it…or suffer in my conscience over not doing it."

"Which one did you choose?" asked Felicity. In the past, Felicity would always step into the throes of danger just to do what was right, despite the consequences. What Chaplain Garland was about to relate concerned a circumstance where no good deed ever went unpunished.

"I ran into a situation where an alien race faced annihilation on a planate that was getting inches to disintegration. I made my protestations to the captain, but he told me damn too well that to interfere on their…_social development_…would be a direct violation to the Prime Directive. And their 'social development' had something to do in their rooted belief that they must die on the planet itself. And 'twas implied that they never gave us their permission to rescue 'em. Fat lot of good social development would do on a planet that's only inches from dyin' on the whole lot of 'em."

_

* * *

_

Twenty-three year old Francis was rushing past the saucer section corridor on his way to the Main Bridge. He bumped into a couple of crew personnel but got back on his own two feet.

_After rushing past the corridor, he made a daring dash into the turbolift that led to the main bridge. And while waiting for the turbolift to take him there, his young headstrong head was beset with so many torturing thoughts involving the consequences of his actions. He knew full well that if he went too far, he would get kicked out of Starfleet, if not in a rather disgraceful manner. But if he could persuade the captain that it was not only a bad idea to leave these people to die on the planet on account of their religious convictions, then at least he could skip the next step that involved going too far. But if the captain refused, then he was faced with a moral choice as to whether to leave the matter alone or do something about it because it was the right thing to do._

_The turbolift computer let out a tinging beep and Francis dashed out of the turbolift and onto the Main Bridge of the _Odyssey_._

_"Captain! Captain!" he cried._

_The ship captain turned around. "What is it, boy?" he asked Francis rather sharply. "I don't recall ordering you to the bridge. What the hell are you doing here?"_

_"Captain, we can't do this!" Francis protested. "We're leaving these people to _die_!"_

_The captain made a wry sigh. "I'm sorry, sir, but I'm afraid I'm in no position to do anything about it. The Prime Directive…"_

_"To hell with the Prime Directive!" Francis interrupted rather ragefully! "These are _people_, Captain! People like us! We're just leaving them to die simply because their goddamn religious convictions order them to do so? This is all so goddamn wrong!"_

_The captain crossed his arms. "What's your name, boy?"_

_"Francis Garland, sir."_

_"Mr. Garland, I would do very well not to interrupt the captain again when he's speaking. Such actions are pretty much considered a misdemeanor as a crewmember of Starfleet, and there can be pretty severe penalties over this."_

_Francis could not take all this. Not at a time when millions, if not thousands of lives were at stake. But cooperation with the captain was what he had to do in order to be somewhat successful at persuading him._

_"Yes, sir," he answered simply._

_"Good. I'm glad we came to an understanding over the matter. Now what the hell is it?"_

_Francis took a deep breath. "What you're doing is wrong, captain," he said. "I thought we were obliged to save lives, not see them destroyed."_

"_Mr. Garland, I'm afraid I'm in no position to do anything about this because of the Prime Directive. The Directive was clear about interference with the planet's religious customs. And if their customs involve getting their own people to die with them, then so be it. And I intend to follow the letter of the law in the Directive, as well as its intent. I'm sorry, Francis."_

"_Sorry, my ass!" Francis burst out._

"_You watch your kiester, Mr. Garland," the captain snapped._

"_I don't give a damn!" Francis exclaimed. "Don't you see what the Prime Directive is doing to those people? What if there are others who don't believe in that religious crap that involves dying with their kin? Ask yourself, captain, what if there are others who want to live?"_

_The captain scratched his head over the matter. "Ensign Garland, let me warn you that any attempt to deviate from the Prime Directive is a offense against the Federation. If you attempt to intervene, you face possible brig time, not to mention the disappearance of your career."_

"_What makes _you_ of all people think I might do something about it?" retorted Francis. He knew that the captain could sort of surmise future actions based on the present actions of his crew._

"_Because I know you too well, Francis."_

"_Right, captain. We shall see." Francis immediately stormed out of the Main Bridge and back to the turbolift._

_He hadn't pressed a single button yet. He was considering as to whether he should take the turbolift to Deck 6, where he was considering the use of one of the transporter rooms, or back Deck 10 to his crew quarters._

_He had had enough of that Prime Directive bullshit. To him, the whole idea of letting people die on the planet just because their religious convictions told them to do so was just plain wrong to him. It went against his beliefs as a Roman Catholic Christian, where the emphasis was saving lives, no matter what._

_After considering the ramifications of the issue, he decided he had pretty much nothing to lose over his own personal intervention of those planet people. His wife was dead, and any purpose in service with Starfleet seemed like nothing to him. And his conscience pretty much told him that to just simply let the matter go would be some sort of sin._

_He would do something about the matter. If no one else was willing to do so, only he could do it._

* * *

"Anyway, finding myself unable to accept such a well-devised excused, I decided to take matters into my own hands."

"Oh, boy!" exclaimed William excitedly, as he knew that the Chaplain was on the verge of narrating an interesting part in his life story.

"So what happened next?" piped up Nan.

"I'm gettin' into that, lady," said the Chaplain. He exhaled huffily before he continued. "I immediately rushed into Transporter Room Three, took out the transporter chief and his crony…"

_

* * *

_

15 minutes later…

_Transporter Room One, Room 1654…_

_The transporter room was pretty much left in a non-security-reinforced mode, except for the transporter chief and his supervisor in yellow uniform manning the controls._

_Barging into the transporter room, Francis took out the transporter chief and his supervisor with a phaser set on stun. Then he used a hacking device to gain unauthorized access into the transporter controls. The hacking device continued doing its dirty work until Francis saw two words embossed in green lettering: TRANSPORTER CONTROLS ACTIVE._

_The transporter room computer even confirmed it by voice confirmation._

_"TRANSPORTER CONTROL ONLINE."_

_Francis wasted no time in getting a knack on the control. When people's lives were at stake, one didn't usually waste a lot of time. That was the same with Francis._

* * *

"Well, I didn't kill them of course, in case you're wondering."

The children were facing him squarely, wide-eyed with tension.

"So, um, getting back to the story. After I disabled 'em, I managed to override the security protocols for the transporter controls, and I managed to beam a fair portion of the populace out of that dying planet, which, as I recall, was a fair estimate of about a thousand inhabitants in the time between transporter startup to the time when the planet died. Boom."

_

* * *

_

Inside Transporter Room Three, several people were beamed onto the transporter pad. The civilians seemed to be disoriented and were starting to grumble most voluminously, as their custom involved having them die on the planet.

"How did you manage to take over the 'transporter'?" asked Ben.

"Trade secret," answered the Chaplain half-enthusiastically. "If I'd even halftold you, I'd have to kill you."

"Sorry," he answered wryly. He wondered weirdly to himself whether the Chaplain was just being a joking person, or whether he really meant it.

"Back to the story," the Chaplain continued briskly. "As one would expect, I should have been rewarded for going to the trouble of saving as much of the populace from the dying planet as best as I could. Instead…"

_

* * *

_

Francis found himself in the captain's Ready Room of the Odyssey.

"_Your conduct was inexcusable, Ensign," the captain scolded. "You have violated the Prime Directive by interference with the planet people. If these people wanted to die, then that was their business. You had _no_ right to interfere."_

_Francis was pretty much quiet at this point. He knew now that what he had done was wrong in the eyes of the Federation. But at least his conscience was settled. However, his principles were still influential in comporting himself to men in authority._

"_I guess I didn't," said Francis calmly. "But I thought that there could be some people who didn't want to conform to the majority's beliefs that they should die on the planet."_

"_There most likely weren't. From my reports, the civilians were grumbling about what you did."_

_Francis made a wry smile. "Or rather, whatever is left of them, grumbled about what I did," he elucidated. "There are various ways for them to commit suicide. Some will do it and some will not. But with a dying planet?" He leaned closer in facing the captain. "Captain, do let me tell you this. That planet's fate was something everybody had to accept, whether they like it or not. Some of those people conformed because they had to; because they had no choice in the matter, and those who voiced their opinions against the majority would suffer most horribly. Like my wife Rachel did under the Cardassians. I know now I won't get thanked for this; I knew _I_ wouldn't; but I did what had to be done; and that's all that matters to me."_

_The captain was pretty much silent on that one._

"_Violating the Prime Directive is a serious offense," said the captain. "I'm afraid that cannot be excused. And many of the civilians that you saved from that dying planet are already blaming the Federation for what you did."_

"_Sometimes, the Directive was violated to accomplish a greater good," said Francis._

"_Under another ship. But not mine, Ensign. Here, the letter of the law is followed, as well as the spirit."_

"_I guess that cannot be denied," said Francis._

"_Because of what you have done, you are hereby relieved of duty, Ensign Garland," the captain declared coldly. "I'd start packing my bags if I were you."_

* * *

"…I was relieved of duty. Told never again to work in Starfleet. Never. Kicked out, you could say."

_

* * *

_

Francis left the Captain's Ready Room, feeling very desolate, depressed, and disappointment, with not one shred of hope within his entire self to kindle.

_He had done it. He had ruined not only his career, but his reputation. He did a thankless thing, and got blamed for it._

_Before his wife died on the away mission, he had everything. After his wife got killed the only thing he had left in his life was his career in Starfleet. Now he had nothing._

_Except faith in God. Would he help him? Would he get angry at him because of what he did? Should those people have died and not have their right to die be interfered with by the likes of people like him? Those questions pretty much left his mind unsettled._

_After exiting the turbolift on Deck 6, Francis headed back to his crew quarters and started packing his bags for incoming departure from the _Odyssey_._

_Several days later, when the _Odyssey_ docked at the Spacedock, Francis stepped out of the airlock, bags in hand, in into a shuttlecraft whose destination was the interior of the Spacedock itself. He knew now by this step that he was leaving behind his career in Starfleet forever._

* * *

"Why were you kicked out of Starfleet?" asked Felicity. Her serious demeanor reflected sympathy for Chaplain Garland's past plight. She could almost imagine her father doing something similar to what the Chaplain did back in his youth.

At least she could remember doing something like that. Her father once made a statement to her about doing good things at a time when Penny was taken back from the cruel Mr. Nye who mistreated the thoroughbred mare so much, after doing so much to help her in her time of troubles.

"_It was all a waste," said Felicity through her tears. "Wasn't it, Father."_

_Mr. Merriman put his arm around Felicity. "To do a good thing echoes in the world and will come back to you," he said softly to her._

But then again, the Chaplain's reasons for saving the planet people were different. And he never had some family member or friend to put his arm around him, just like what Felicity had. Of course those thoughts of longing entered the Chaplain's mind seconds after he got back word from the _Odyssey_ captain that he was kicked out of Starfleet once and for all.

"Because I chose to obey a higher authority that that o' Starfleet," the Chaplain answered pretty simply with a hint of brisk.

"Pray, what do you mean by that?" asked Elizabeth rather curiously.

The Chaplain was blunt in his answer. "It meant basically that I chose to obey God and my conscience rather than men," he answered.

"And 'twasn't just that. Soon as my entire unwarranted bravado got circulated across Starfleet Headquarters, I got me a permanent record. Branded for life, so to speak, like the thieves and criminals back in your time.

_

* * *

_

Back at Starfleet Headquarters on Earth, Francis Garland's personal profile and resume was stamped with some sort of seal that indicated his criminality in violation of several Starfleet regulations, most notably the Prime Directive.

* * *

"Took some time for me to get my wits back in order," the Chaplain continued narrating. "And it was from then on that I started yearning for some sense of noble purpose in this whole damn 'verse."

_

* * *

_

Alone with his bags Francis gazed at the starships and shuttlecraft floating inside and outside the Spacedock in a forlorn state, wondering what the hell his sense of purpose was in his finite life.

_In his conscious mind he kept reminding to himself that what was done was done, and that he would face whatever shame he had to face from his family and friends. He then wondered how on earth he could rationalize what he had done. He had let them down, that was for sure; but then again, what did it matter anyway, now that he had lost his wife, which to him, was the anchor of his keeping his career in Starfleet?_

_Francis turned away from the window and headed into what appeared to him to be the unknown, uncharted areas of his life ahead of him._

* * *

The saga of Chaplain Francis O'Neill Garland continues…on the next upcoming chapter.

Ladies and Gentlemen, fellow avid readers, I apologize that I hadn't got back on this great project of story writing sooner than I had hoped. Because of my exposure to young ladies and various adolescent love lives at CUA I felt compelled to write a Lissie/Ben story that featured them in their teens, including a wedding story of Lissie and Ben getting married, because I wanted to settle the speculative score of their life stories in the post-Revolutionary-War era. In my profile, I made some sort of promise that I would continue with this story after doing the aforementioned, both combined of which took at least half a year to complete. Commander Cody CC-2224 usually keeps his promises on continuing what he had started. But he'd at least like some encouragement continue, because he knows that the only place to officially publish his writings that take characters from copyrighted books is on this FanFiction website. Star Trek TNG Souvenirs is the greatest fanfic project on Star Trek and Felicity the American Girl ever to be undertaken.

However, ladies and gentlemen, I'm already back at school, so chapters written in high quality will be slow in coming. Please bear with me as Commander Cody tries to complete the project.

Whew! The longest chapter ever to be written, which is twenty-five pages long, according to what Microsoft Word is indicating. That's pretty much gotta set a record on chapter size in the American Girl section of this Fan Fiction website. (I crave pardon for my seeming lack of modesty on this part…hee hee…)


	44. Chapter 44

_**Star Trek: The Next Generation – Souvenirs**_

**Written By:**_** Commander Cody CC-2224**_

CHAPTER 44

"Please continue," Elizabeth pleaded excitedly, anxious to know what happened next in the Chaplain's life story so fascinating to her and her friends, who were also itching to hear the rest of the story as well.

"So I wandered in my mind while I was at a local bar back in my hometown in San Francisco," Chaplain Garland continued on. "It seems as though my prayers were answered when I was personally informed of an organization on Bajor called the Maquis. Said to be renegade organization established for the purposes of playing the role as front-liner in the Federation-Cardassian war. Today…it's become…_outlawed_…by the Federation 'cause both parties are at peace with each other…or seem to be; the Maquis have different opinions on this perspective. But at that time past all that didn't matter none. The Cardassians killed my wife for no good reason, other than the fact that she was on a non-offensive search-and-rescue operation. Not only that, the Cardassians were, I thought for good reason, evil incarnate because of the atrocities they commit on their every conquests on a frequent basis, and to me and my compatriots, the very idea of the Federation appeasing them on the basis of alliance was despicable. And the fact that there was a high cost of Bajorans being victimized by the Cardassians seemed to put into myself a glowing nobility in a cause I thought so noble, which was I at that very instant I decided to recruit in the Maquis. Call me narrow-minded if you want, but if you've lost a loved one to the Cardassians, or a beloved group of friends, you'd wholly understand."

_

* * *

_

San Francisco, U.S. State of California…

_Finding little else to do for the moment during the day's evening twilight, Francis Garland half-heartedly stepped into the Hard Times Cafe back in his hometown._

_The local Hard Times Cafe bar in the city was the seediest place ever at the outskirts of the San Francisco district, having its location in the most impoverished and rowdiest metropolitan districts of the city. It had seen pretty remarkable history, too. Started back in the Great Depression in the 1930s, it stood the test of time with the physical assistance of refurbishing the building whenever the entire structure got too old to handle the overuse and abuse of its owners and customers. As the years passed by the whole building became an occupational hazard that it had to be demolished and rebuilt. But wanting to keep the cafe in a traditional style, it was rebuilt in almost the same style as it had been built back in the 1930s, granted with a little bit of futuristic enhancements of the 23rd and 24th centuries._

_The interior of the bar looked pretty similar as a Ten-Forward lounge on a Galaxy class starship, but pretty much less grander. Ambient light in all the colors of the rainbow lit up and blinked like typical Christmas tree lights, giving the entire interior a disco fashion of the 1970s. The bar was also rowdy, too, with a majority of the men engaging in excessive binge drinking and yelling vulgar cuss words at each other while whatever women present were either playfully engaged in fornication with other men, acting tough like men, or playing roles as strippers. The only style of music emanating from the hi-fi boom boxes was hip-hop, and some of the karaoke style music played on the boom boxes were sung by rock stars of both genders who could get off key at frequent times, or generate a singing pitch so awful that could make a musically-sensitive individual cover his ears. Other fairly notable alien humanoid species such as Klingons and Trills, and the like were also present, if not thoroughly accounted for._

_But as with most San Francisco residents, the Hard Times Cafe was also a refuge for most workers in different walks of life to let off steam after a typical hard day's work. Social rank pretty much mattered very little to the patrons; it was a refuge of merriment regardless of who one was or what one was._

_Francis seemed to have little qualms about going to the bar. Since his youth he was pretty much discouraged to going into such places, as his family deemed them to be frequent occasions of sin, but now that his career in Starfleet was over, he had nowhere else to turn to that could allow him to drown out his cares and worries. Although Francis was raised as a fairly scrupulous believer, a chapel building of his religious denomination was not something he had in mind at the moment because the quiet solitude would just allow him to ruminate on his earthly downfall. At this point he wanted something that could keep him busy well enough to forget his troubles._

_The gruff, overweight barkeeper slid to him. "Whaddaya want, boy?" he barked._

_"Um…I want a strong drink," said Francis, shaken over intimidation at the barkeeper, who was almost much bigger than he was._

_"You wanna liquor, huh, that what ya want?" the barkeeper barked back._

_"Yes, sir," replied Francis._

_"Name it."_

_"Name what?"_

_"The drink, you damn, stupid idiot."_

_Francis composed himself before forcing a rather diplomatic smile in his young face. "Um…Jim Beam. Yeah; that'll do."_

_"Fine then." Without another word the barkeeper strutted to the back of the counter area to search for a Jim Beam bottle._

_A few seconds later, Francis could overhear a small group of men over by a table a mere five feet away from him talking about the Federation-Cardassian War, including an organization that was called the Maquis._

"_Our resistance forces are already losing in the Goron sector," a man in an old cap and drab outfit piped up._

"_Those gray-faced bastards have already invaded Colony Zephyr near the Demilitarized Zone and destroyed everything! Lock, stock, and barrel!" interjected an elder individual._

"_Even killed some of our colonists!" addressed a third man._

"_What did they want with innocent women and children?"_

"_Maybe for target practice."_

"_Even…rape."_

"_These desecrations we won't stand for!" shouted the elder._

_But before Francis could investigate further, the barkeeper gave him a rather rude wake-up call by slapping him on the head after delivering the specified liquor bottle._

_"Your order, sir," said the barkeeper._

_"Thanks," Francis replied quickly. Without another word, he made his dash away to the bar counter and headed for the table with the group of men talking about the Cardassians and the Federation. _

"_We must recruit more Federation citizens," said the elder man._

"_Why?" asked Francis rather curiously. "The war against the Cardassians is still going on."_

"_The Federation ain't doin' enough!" answered the elder. "They're all too goody-two-shoes to even press further into Cardassian territory. The Maquis could do it in half the time 'cause they be less scrupulous with the Cardassians when it comes to warring against 'em!"_

"_I thought the Federation was dealing with this problem," said Francis._

"_And why do you say that?" retorted the elder._

"'_Cause they're capable. Let 'em deal with it and get themselves killed over."_

_The elder man leaned closer near Francis' face. "Tell me…youngster…" he said in a low voice. "Have you lost a loved one to those damnable gray monsters who have no qualms about targeting innocent civilians? They never have remorse over doing such things."_

_This talk struck Francis pretty deeply in the heart. He had been angry with the Cardassians before over them murdering his beloved Rachel. Now Francis got wholly indignant over the information that he's hearing about the Cardassians._

"_I have," Francis answered simply, forcing himself to answer._

"_Then…you'd do well enough to join the party," said the elder. "You want cheap revenge, the way you want a McDonald hamburger from the replicator? This…this is the opportunity to get it."_

"_Or are you so elegant that you'd rather stay in Starfleet and pass on from one boring assignment to another?" asked the man in the cap._

"_That is far from impossible," said Francis, which was his way of saying that it was completely impossible because he was really kicked out from Starfleet._

"_So you was kicked out," the elder presumed right away. From the tone of voice that Francis put in his reply, it seemed almost for certain that he indeed lost his Starfleet career._

"_Yup."_

"_Kicked out, the better," interjected the other man, feeling that details about Francis' loss of his Starfleet career were pretty much irrelevant to the discussion about joining the Maquis. "The Maquis recruits people of all ages who are capable of wielding a weapon; even recruit people kicked out of Starfleet, even those with dishonorable discharges. The organization even has a handful of special Division units for them specialists; those who want to go so far as to proudly test their mettle. We seem to have no qualms about their history records; as long as they get compensated adequate, they'll do fine."_

"_With one exception, though," said the elder. "You can't have a serious criminal record. One that involves intentional murder with malice aforethought."_

"_That ain't gonna be no problem none," said Francis. "'Cause I ain't no murderer. Just the naïve young husband of someone murdered by the Cardassians."_

"_You want action, son, this is the life."_

"_I know," said Francis. "'Tis all too tempting to say 'in'."_

"_Then you'd better say it then, while the opportunity's still in existence," said the elder. "The Jesus of history only gave you __one__ opportunity to be one of his fanatic followers, and that's it. If it's gone, it's gone." _

* * *

"I don't think you were narrow-minded at all, Reverend," said Elizabeth sympathetically.

"God knows I'd do something like that if given the chance," concurred Felicity a little determinedly.

"Aye. Me, too," put in Ben through gritted teeth, who was at this point having some memories of the infamous Boston Massacre back in 1773. True, it was a very, very long time ago, but for Ben, the event was very recent for him on a chronological basis.

_

* * *

_

So…boy," continued the elder man. "Is it 'in',…or 'out'?"

_Francis stared at the old codger, all wide-eyed in wonder, and serious at the very same time, and at the very same time, giving some thought about this life-changing decision for a moment._

"_I want 'in'," he demanded pretty simply._

_The old codger snatched Francis' right hand and shook it as firmly as if he was grappling a rusty iron bar. Francis winced over this strapping and seemingly unnecessary squeezing of the hands, but he knew that such a gesture in the form of a gruff handshake was a gesture of acceptance into this equal opportunity organization._

* * *

"Well, 'twas done. After agreeing to join, I was immediately told to report to the nearest Maquis training camp, where their trainees engage in all sorts of activities aside from shooting the enemy; from espionage to security computer hacking. Not that your young antiquated minds'll know what those mean, but that was what they were doing."

_

* * *

_

Francis was mingling with various recruits to the Maquis as they congregated to hear the camp commander make the introductions.

_"Welcome to Camp Yavin-B!" the commander said quite loudly over an electronic megaphone. "This…is your new home! I'm sure you're all getting started with the aquaintance and everything. Tomorrow, you will meet your Division commanders. They will get you involved in every aspect of training you need in this front-liner organization."_

_Francis entered the barracks with one of men and threw down his two duffel bags._

* * *

"And then the training started."

_

* * *

_

Francis engaged in very rigorous training in the art of war at a Maquis camp on Bajor. In camp Yavin-B he engaged in rigorous weight-lifting, ramp running, and running the five-mile track. In a separate barracks room he engaged himself most diligently in advanced weapons training, as he fired all sorts of phaser weapons, ranging from the standard Federation Type III phaser to the Klingon disruptor rifle, the standard Cardassian assault phaser, the Cardassian slug shotgun, and the Federation projectile rifle. (NEED SPECIFIC NAME.) In another area of the camp he engaged himself with system hacking; gaining advanced computer skills in hacking most Cardassian systems and even Federation systems. Most of his comrades could marvel at his skill.

* * *

"Conditions in the camp were pretty Spartan, but a mite better off in comparison to those old days o' yours."

One close look at little William's face could make out some sort of conclusion that the boy was not totally familiar with that word so seemingly bizarre to him for his age. "What does 'spartan' mean?" he inquired rather curiously.

"Um…rough," the Chaplain answered him in a rather gruff and pretty forceful manner. "Inconvenient. Uncomfortable." He bit his lip out of habit during this point. "The place could become a pretty inconvenient bore on the sometimes."

Then he took a pretty deep breath.

"And then the most life-changing moment in my military career as a Maquis private suddenly shoved its way into _my_ very face."

_

* * *

_

Outside at a wide-open area in Camp Yavin-B, two scores of Maquis personnel of both genders and completely diverse humanoid species with Type III Federation phasers strapped onto their right shoulders were lined up neatly in rank order, standing at strict attention. Much enthusiasm could be reflected in their faces. Their training reached the point of completion. And this was the day they were waiting for.

_A human officer in khaki fatigues promptly arrived promptly at the scene as if to present a show. He was the Maquis Divisions General of the 4th Unit, the one that Francis was assigned to. His uniform was spiffed and starched, an his demeanor was very professional. Without waiting further time he proceeded to address the troops on a powerful megaphone._

_"Gentlemen," addressed the officer, "You've trained long and hard for this day, and now this day has come."_

* * *

"We were then told that we was gonna get dropped on planet Bajor," Chaplain Garland narrated. "To gain a foothold on the planet's capital city, which at that time was under _tight _Cardassian military control."

* * *

"_At 1500 hours, we're gonna be dropped on planet Bajor in the attempt of gaining a foothold in the capital city."_

* * *

"Our mission as so damn crucial in Federation victory that we felt so damn good 'bout our very own selves. So good, in fact, that we all thought we was ready for _any_ thin'."

_

* * *

_

"The mission is crucial for us, gentlemen. Y'all know that Bajor is an economic platform on which is situated near the planet itself…a Bajoran wormhole. Whoever controls this wormhole…controls the most important trade routes of access 'twixt the Alpha and Gamma Quadrants."

_A blonde-haired woman flicked a remote and a digital 3-D animated map of stunning, spectacular proportions was shown. The outline was sea-green, and grid areas were displayed. Important strategic areas were highlighted in blood-red as the officer explained the strategy of the Bajor offense._

_"The 1st and 4th Division will punch through the southern end of the fortified defense compound at close proximity to the capital city. 2nd and 3rd will breach the eastern side. The Andorians have decided to commission their robot canines so we'll have backing in the major breaching process."_

_An animated 3-D outline hologram of an Andorian cyberdog zoomed in on the screen. The specs indicated that such a contraption was going to be half the size of a full-grown horse, as its average length indicated six feet, its width four, and its height five. On top of the cyberdog's back was a mounted, man-portable disruptor cannon capable of firing at 5000 disruptor rounds a minute. _

* * *

"I was in the 4th," Garland said simply, raising his right hand and showing four fingers.

_

* * *

_

Expecting all the troops to have some fair understanding of the entire strategy briefing, the officer shouted, "Do y'all get me?"

_"Yes! Sir!" the troopers all shouted enthusiastically in unison._

_"Good. We leave at exactly 1435 hours. Head over to your actions stations. Godspeed and good luck."_

* * *

"And that was the beauty of the briefing," said Garland, before stretching to take a rather exhilarating yawn. "The raid to Bajor's capital city was officially on."

_

* * *

_

A half-hour later, all shuttlecraft had been parked in row formation. Standard shuttlecraft and Delta Flyers had been recruited for this massive raiding operation.

_The cavernous launch bay was rife with activity as daylight bathed the interior from a huge opening that was enough to accommodate shuttlecraft flying in and flying out. Troopers were boarding their assigned shuttlecraft. Public address systems were chattering over miscellaneous regulations and assigning certain division groups to certain shuttlecraft and some were summoning other groups to report to their division commanders. _

_Francis stepped into the assigned shuttlecraft, along with his fellow fighters in the Maquis force of different species, both male and female. It was where he encountered the squad officer. The interior of the shuttlecraft was almost Spartan in appearance; there were no leather seats like what most civilian-based Federation shuttlecraft did, but tough cushioned seats with seat belts, which very much resembled the type of seats used on army transport aircraft and ground transport vehicles of the 20th century. This was done in part because the Maquis wanted to keep costs low. The seats faced each other as they were situated at opposite ends of the length of the shuttlecraft itself. The resonant hum of the shuttlecraft engines was enough to keep Francis awake, as well as slightly unsettled; but most of this unsettling came from the fact that he was about to be dropped into his first war zone with the front-liners._

_One of the fighters slapped Francis on his left shoulder as he sat across the starboard seating side of the shuttlecraft itself._

"_You ready for this, man?"_

_Francis looked back at the man. His dark skin was a mite sweaty, but his face was bright and his black eyes twinkled and his grin was genuine._

"_Yeah. Yeah," Francis answered a mite nervously._

"_Don't get cocky, lad," said another man. "No mission like this ain't never gonna be easy. You might get scared shitless even before we head over to the drop zone."_

_On friendly territory on Bajor, Federation Command and Maquis Command teamed up in a building in one of the buildings of a town held mainly by the Bajorans. Chatter over the comm. radios filled the room as VIPs shuffled back and forth to check on updates that would stream in seconds._

"_All shuttlecraft are approaching the target city," a young lieutenant reported to the Chief of Staff, as he handed the stats on a PADD._

"_Good. Keep me updated when they reach the zones."_

_Without waiting for a word of thank you, the lieutenant headed back to his workstation._

_Outskirts of the Bajoran Capital City…_

_"Information, approaching objective," reported the co-pilot on the comm. of the shuttlecraft. Francis crossed himself, knowing full well that he was heading over to an inevitable encounter with the jaws of death. Inside the shuttlecraft, everyone clung to their Type III phaser rifles, awaiting deployment. A crew of twelve Maquis squad personnel in rugged khaki military fatigues armed with Type III phasers were awaiting deployment. Seated at opposite sides, they couldn't help glimpsing at each other, as they knew that these were the people they would inevitably never see again._

_The shuttlecraft passed by Federation and Maquis ground-based forces before heading over to the area where enemy ground vehicles posed serious opposition to the combined forces._

_The landing zone was a sandstorm-thick flat desert landscape. Federation shuttlecraft were encountering face-to-face with anti-aircraft artillery fire from Cardassian ground forces in Bajor's capital city. A handful of shuttlecraft were victim of the artillery. From a small portal window, Francis watched in stupefied awe as a shuttlecraft got hit by a Cardassian disruptor beam generated from ground-based disruptor cannons. Inside the shuttlecraft, radio static could be heard from the pilot's area._

"_Steady, men," ordered the jumpmaster._

"_Contact. Secure radio channel," the pilot radioed in to the troops in the transport compartment. This was the signal that the shuttlecraft was over the landing zone._

_The shuttlecraft made it to the landing zone and landed on the ground. Ambient red light switched on, indicating that the squad personnel should have their phaser and projectile weapons loaded and locked. The red light around the cabin switched to lime green. Everyone strapped on their breathing apparatuses._

"_Green light! Everybody off! Let's go, go, go!" shouted the jumpmaster._

_When the squad rushed out, the Division Officer shouted, "C'mon, you greenhorns! Let's punch the livin' crap outta those gray monsters!"_

_The troopers exited the shuttlecraft on the starboard door, exposed to the small-arms disruptor fire. Seconds later, the shuttlecraft flew off._

_In the swirling dust of the sandstorm a handful of Cardassian troopers equipped with rugged Cardassian disruptors and wearing breathing apparatus could be shown emerging from the swirly dust and opening fire at the invasion force._

_The Cardassian troopers opened fire without hesitation and with stunning efficiency. Their accuracy with their weapons guaranteed a handful of casualties on the Maquis side._

_"Man down!" shouted one soldier. "Repeat, we've got a man down!"_

_"Need field medic ASAP!"_

_"Fire!" shouted the squad officer._

_Intense firefighting lit up and erupted between the Cardassian and Federation forces. As the front-liners, the Maquis squad personnel punched throught he blinding sandstorm and fired their phasers at whatever Cardassian troopers were in half-plain sight. Klingon Marines wearing their own weird-looking breathing apparatus joined in the fight._

_Francis could very much hear his own nervous breathing on his breathing apparatus. The whole battle thing was new to him. Through his goggles, Francis could make out two Cardassian troopers getting hit squarely. One dark-brown blonde-haired crewwoman in dark skin got taken out by a Cardassian disruptor beam._

_By the time the dust cleared a bit, the 4th Division was already __30__ yards of the south city wall as the pushed closer (to the bunker boundaries). Federation attack fighters were mopping out any internal resistance within the city in the form of Cardassian AAA batteries and small-arms disruptor fire originating from loose pockets of Cardassian ground forces. The dust clearance, however, left the 4th Division visible to the occupying Cardassian defense forces from on top of the city wall. Intense disruptor fire brought about heavy casualties in the 4th Division. That particular area was heavily reinforced. The force was pinned down._

"_We're pinned down! We need reinforcements ASAP!" shouted the squad commander._

"_Negative, negative," responded Federation air command. "We can't send in air support at this time. We're detecting pockets of AAAs in the city. We can only send in ground forces."_

"_Lot of good it does!" exclaimed the squad commander._

"_They're the only one's available," interjected the second-in-command._

_Andorian reinforcements arrived pretty much in the nick of time. A modest of force of heavily armed and armored Andorian crack troops, and a handful of Andorian cyberdogs with man-portable disruptor guns mounted on their backs positioned themselves immediately in strict formation in such an efficient manner and let loose their superbly accurate firepower combined._

* * *

"Wow," said William in awe.

"That…that is so weird," said Ben, having heard the extraneous details of Chaplain Garland's military career that were so unusual to him for his time. "That…that really happened?"

"You don't wanna believe me, fine," said the Chaplain. "But that's the truth of it. That… that was the beautiful thing."

Elizabeth couldn't seem to wrap her eleven-year-old head around the notion of beauty in all things warlike.

"But…the good times didn't last. We ran into a bit of a spot, you see."

_

* * *

_

It seemed as though reinforcements kept a-coming and popping out on the Cardassian defenses. One Cardassian trooper fired a rocket grenade at one of the Andorian cyberdogs, putting out of commission. So many of those special robot war machines were decimated in that particular manner.

"_We can't hold further!" shouted the Andorian captain. "My platoon is taking heavy casualties! We have to fall back!"_

"_Wonker!" spat the squad commander over his seeming disgust for the Andorians to fall back after they had just fought their way near the line. "We've just busted our asses to get to the bloody south wall, and you want to retreat?"_

"_Our forces are being decimated!" shouted back the Andorian squad commander. "We won't be much good in this state! My troops have to retreat!"_

_The Division commander had no choice. "All right. It's your call. My men will hold the lines as best we can."_

_The Andorian radioed a command for his forces to retreat._

"_If we don't find a way to breach the southern wall, we'll be sitting ducks!" complained the second-in-command._

"_Or piles o' corpses!" agreed the squad commander. He turned to Francis. "Francis! Radio a call for a goddamn air strike!"_

"_Got it, sir!" Francis answered loudly. The second-in-command slapped a backpack radio right on Francis' chest._

"_Give 'em a call!" ordered the second-in-command._

_Francis took the telephone. "Federation air command! This is Private Francis Garland, at the behest of my squad commander, requesting for air support"_

"_Go ahead, Private, we copy."_

"_We're pinned down! We need immediate airstrike ASAP! Coordinates are 414, bearing 519!"_

"_Roger that, Private. We have the coordinates. We're directing two attack fighters to your position. They'll await your exact location."_

"_Are they coming?" asked the second-in-command._

"_They said they're working on it!" shouted Francis. "I ain't got no other else to approach the situation…"_

_The radio chatter came back on. "Charlie team, we have your coordinates. This is FAF-1793, call-sign Wollcroft."_

"_Bloody good to hear from you, mate!" shouted Francis._

"_The dust around your vicinity is obscuring our visuals. We need you plant an IR strobe on the target area."_

_Francis put the phone down. "They said they want a strobe on the target," he said._

"_Well, throw it away!" shouted the second-in-command. "This entire squad is gonna depend on you getting those goddamn Cardassians outta the way!"_

"_Well, where's my goddamn strobe?"_

_The second-in-command slapped it on Francis' hand. "Throw it on those sons of bitches."_

_With a hasty salute, Francis turned around and slipped. But he scrambled to his feet fast and approached the area closest to the Cardassian trooper reinforcements. Kissing the strobe for good luck, he chucked the strobe into the fortification._

_The Cardassians, being fairly alert people, noticed that something was being thrown at them. One of the troopers picked it up. Thinking it was some sort of tracking device, he chucked it away and it landed on the sandy surface a little bit near the defense fortification._

_But at least the Federation Attack Fighter pilots had the fairly exact position. They converged on the scene. These aircraft look like F-22s, except they had twin engines at the back, their wings were slanted downward by a slight, and were very agile. Each of these ships were armed with two hundred photon torpedoes, twelve pulse cannons, six ship-mounted high-energy disruptors and three particle accelerators._

"_I've got your position, we're inbound and hot," said the lead FAF pilot._

_The fighters converged on the target, which comprised of the reinforced bunker area on the front side. Flying by, the fighters unleashed an overwhelming and deadly barrage of scarlet-colored phaser fire emanating from their wingtips. The entire defense fortification spontaneously exploded in a giant fireball._

_Francis Garland was very much overwhelmed with the results with shock and awe. "Jesus…H.…Christ!" he exclaimed in wonder._

_He became shaken out of his shock-n-awe state by another fellow Maquis fighter._

"_C'mon, soldier! Let's go!" he called after him._

* * *

"So after fighting our way past the front lines, we managed to arrive to the Cardassian military bunker."

"What's…what's a bunker?" asked Ben a mite hesitantly.

"Underground-based fortress," the Chaplain answered him rather quickly. "You know, like a fort, 'cept it's for the most part underground."

"I've never heard of that. Please…continue."

"We've encountered a hell of a lotta resistance in that goddamn bunker."

_

* * *

_

The squad managed to penetrate the bunker entrance. With their phaser weapons ready and their fingers poised on the triggers, the squad stalked in rather cautiously.

_Due to the impact of the FAF the interior the bunker looked pretty battered. But more than that, it was abandoned. Or rather, it seemed to be abandoned._

_The bunker was quiet. Too quiet._

"_Look's like we've done the job, boys," affirmed the squad commander._

_Suddenly, Cardassian fighters sprang up in surprise out of their hiding places._

_"For Cardassia!" growled a fanatic Cardassian officer. He let out a mighty growl for a battle cry. His troops shouted that same cry before beginning their pounce on the squad._

_Fierce firefighting continues as the Maquis squad fight their way through using deadly force. Francis determinedly aimed his phaser rifle at any Cardassian offensive troops and fires, nicking a handful off one by one._

* * *

"Now you'll have a lot of yammering about how we should turn the other cheek and all that shit that got many good Christians killed for their faith," said the Chaplain.

"And from you?" asked Elizabeth calmly.

"From me, you'll hear that sometimes turning the other cheek just don't work on some occasions."

_

* * *

_

Francis suddenly stops himself cold, his Type III phaser poised to kill ambushing enemies, when he suddenly came across a Cardassian boy around ten to twelve years of age, pointing a Cardassian rifle directly at him with both hands.. The boy's face, though not as handsome as a human child's was glaring, and his twitching fingers were poised on the trigger, ready to kill him should he lay a hand on him.

* * *

"However, there was an exception," continued the Chaplain.

"What was that?" asked Elizabeth curiously.

"I…I encountered a Cardassian lad just a year younger than you older girls. I…for some reason sort of inconceivable to you kids, I was…I was hesitant to shoot him."

"Why?" Ben asked out of curiosity, though there was a tinge of indignance in his tone of voice. "The boy, as you put it quite clearly, was armed."

"Why?" the Chaplain retorted. "He was just a little boy, that's why! Ain't nobody in his right mind would have the gall to kill a younglin' even if he was an enemy!"

_

* * *

_

"Francis, what the hell are you doing?" bellowed the squad commander. "Get rid of him!"

_Francis immediately turned back his head to his commanding officer. "There's no honor in this," he blurted right away. I…I can't."_

_"You must. Our orders are to eliminate all Cardassian personnel." He let out a snarl. "And that includes little boys…and girls. They can be deadly."_

_"But he's just a kid, for Christ's sake!" Francis retorted. He could still feel the rebellious instincts of his past when he crossed the captain of the U.S.S. Odyssey. "I don't see how…"_

_Without waiting for Francis to finish his line, the squad commander brandished a Type II phaser and pointed it at the boy, ready to shoot to kill. Instinctively the boy fired his disruptor at the squad commander's left torso region. The commander fired off his phaser, killing the boy in the process as Francis watched the gruesome tussle, horrorstruck._

_"I…I warned you this would happen," grunted the squad commander._

_"I've still got principles," said Francis, shaking from the trauma._

_"But too much of them," interjected the squad commander with a grimace, while he held his hand over his disruptor wound to apply pressure. "You keep acting that way, and one day you'll get victimized by children who have the guts to kill people. Now gemme a bandage."_

_Shaking his head a little, Francis rushed off to find some bandaging cloth around the large, concrete bunker room._

* * *

"Well, I did eventually manage to save his life, and he knew well enough to thank me for it. My squad commander, I mean. The incident was later recorded in the private annals of Federation…and Maquis warfare…for the philosophers to soak their heads in. But while that was happening, we were getting ready for our next mission.

"Our next mission comprised of heading off to the Rigel colonies to assist in reinforcing the Maquis forces being flanked by the Cardassians. While stationed on our vessel, we were cited and attacked by a Cardassian cruiser. We were so damn overwhelmed that we were forced to surrender…ignominiously."

_

* * *

_

A Maquis raider craft was cruising via the Gamma Quadrant on a raiding operation against a military supply depot held by Cardassian forces. It was under pursuit by a Cardassian Galor-class cruiser pummeling the raider craft with an overwhelming barrage of phaser fire. In a relative few seconds, the Cardassian cruiser managed to disable the engines of the Raider craft.

_The entire Main Bridge of the Raider craft was on red alert, and klaxons were sounding all over the ship. Personnel were scrambling to find out what the hell was going on and how to assess the situation._

_"Shite! They've taken our engines offline!" shouted a British crewman._

_"Warp core breach is imminent," warned one white crewwoman._

_"Take 'em offline!" yelled the Raider captain._

_"Been there, done that," responded another crewman._

_"In this case, we're goddamn sitting ducks," complained the captain._

_"More than that, sir," informed a female NAV operator. "Sensors indicate the Galor-class cruiser is about to make a run on the aft part of the ship."_

_"Can you target their Bridge using the aft phaser array?" the captain asked urgently._

_"We can try that," responded the helmsman._

_"Do it."_

_The Raider performed a concentrated phaser barrage at the neck of the Cardassian cruiser._

_"Damage minimal," informed the helmsman._

_"That's only a pinprick," said the Raider captain. "They're gonna respond with a sledgehammer."_

_Which they did. The Cardassian cruiser responded to this act of defiance with an even more intense phaser barrage. On the Main Bridge of the Raider everyone could feel the ship shaking violently as if there was a violent earthquake._

_"Now that was intense," said the Raider captain._

_"Captain, you are being hailed," said a male tactical officer._

_"Open a channel."_

_"You've got it."_

_The ultimatum of the Cardassians came in. "Maquis raider, this is the Cardassian cruiser Lak'Ran. We have disabled your engines. Prepare to be boarded. If you resist, we will destroy you and your ship."_

* * *

"The cap'n and all of us decided we'd resist to the very end. So we set up a fairly fortified positions all over the ship."

"How…how fortified?" asked Ben, who at this point was holding a special interest on the tactics of war of the 24th century."

"Well,…um, it was a pretty substantial one," Chaplain Garland admitted in a rather matter-of-fact way. "One that nearly delayed those goddamn Cardassian space intruders."

_

* * *

_

The docking doors blasted open. Maquis personnel fired phaser weapons at any approaching Cardassian troopers in the breach. The firefights became intense as reinforcements on the Cardassian side kept a-coming.

_"We're heavily outnumbered, sir!" shouted one crewman._

_"Everybody fall back! Fall back to the secondary level!"_

_The fighters retreated from the corridor while firing their phasers back at the Cardassian intruders. On the Main Bridge, activity within the corridors was being monitored by tactical officer. The Cardassians would have had an easier time taking over the ship if they could transport a handful of troops directly to the Bridge itself, but an encompassing force field prevented that from happening._

_"Everybody off corridor 32?" asked the first officer._

_"Confirmed," replied the tactical officer._

_Pressing a series of buttons, the first officer remotely sealed off access to corridor 32 from the docking bay._

_"We're heading your way to the Bridge. Prepare to seal off all corridor access points leading directly to the Bridge!"_

_"Copy that," replied the first officer. He turned to the captain. "We can make our stand here," he said to him._

_The retreating fighters headed over to the turbolift entrance. "We're at the turbolift! Prepare to seal off all corridor entrances except the turbolift."_

_The captain on the Bridge managed to get that information._

_"Seal off all corridor access points," he ordered._

_"Got it." The first officer remotely sealed off all corridor access points leading directly to the main bridge of the Raider craft._

_"Three crew are coming up to the Main Bridge. We'll have to send in few at a time."_

_"Do it quick."_

_The procedure was complete until every last fighter was on the Main Bridge. Then the turbolift was locked down._

_"Any…any other options…captain?" blurted out Francis._

_The Raider captain heaved a deep sigh whilst putting his arms over his hips. He hung his face and shook his head, as if to indicate that he himself was out of options to consider for this tense situation._

_"We can use the escape pods," suggested the first officer._

_"Yeah; in the meantime, that Cardassian cruise can nick us in no time if we do that," said the captain._

_"Better to die as free men than to die trying," said Francis._

_The captain immediately faced him. "All right, you smart aleck. What are you suggesting? Suicide run?"_

_"Preferably."_

_"Well, you know I ain't inclined to that. There should be other options available."_

_"And the only one that seems to be available is the escape pod suggestion, which is what __your__ first officer suggested in the first place," said Francis indignantly._

_The captain clicked back his tongue. "All right. We'll try it my officer's way." He turned his face to his first officer. "Zack, see if you can open a corridor entrance to the escape pod bay. We should be able to…"_

_The captain was interrupted by another phaser barrage from the Cardassian cruiser._

_"Damn!" shouted the Raider captain._

_In a few moments, a single electrical pulse particle was fired directly at the Raider craft, which impacted directly on the bow area of the craft, literally short-circuiting the electrical systems on the Main Bridge._

_"Goddamn it!" exclaimed the first officer. "Main power's offline!"_

_"How the hell did they do that?" asked one crewman._

_"Pulse particle," answered one anonymous crewwoman._

_"We're in hell right now," remarked the captain. "Computer, what is the status of weapons systems?"_

_"MAIN PHOTON LAUNCHERS ARE OFFLINE," bleeped the computer. "PRIMARY AND SECONDARY PHASER ARRAY INOPERATIVE."_

_"That includes the protective force field as well," informed a crewwoman._

_The captain simply shook his head. "This is not my best day ever," he grumbled to himself._

_In a few seconds, seven Cardassian shock troopers beamed onto the Main Bridge, aiming their disruptor weapons directly at the outnumbered and ultimately defeated crew._

* * *

"Federation forces were also present, and they tried intervening on our behalf, don't know why, but those damn Cardassians refused to hand over their prisoners. I know what was at stake then; if we were under the hand of the Cardassians, worse prisoner treatment would be to come. 'Twas at this point that the Federation was forced to cooperate with the Cardassians in order to preserve the peace."

_

* * *

_

Under the ice-cold colony planet of Rilnar Ke'Vek at the heart of the Cardassian region lay in intense underground mining factory with an intensely active mining operation. Conditions were harsh as hell itself. Noisy, clanking machinery filled the space of the underground shaft, and prisoners of all social classes, species, genders, and races, most of them in ragged clothes, trudged to and fro to their appointed workstations. Even with efficient tools, the work was still difficult and dangerous. Prisoners were as easy to replace as the mining tools themselves and easily disposed of when one was too weak to continue working. The entire mining facility was an inferno; with its stifling heat rarely enough to make a man wish he froze outside to death in the cold. The facility was wanting in protection against occupational hazards, implying to some great degree that the prisoners' lives were to be totally disregarded.

_No one could ever survive in such a place unless one had a reason to go on living. Many workers died as a result of giving up on life than from the harsh elements of the mining facility itself._

_If one had even a shred of faith, it was probable that one could survive marginally the entire place._

* * *

"I felt as if I was doomed now. I, along with the rest of my comrades-in-arms in the Maquis raiding force, was taken to the Cardassian penal colony of Rilnar Ke'Vek, a bloody L-Class planet. There, I was forced to spend nearly thirteen months consigned to a life of gruesome slavery underground.

_

* * *

_

For Francis, the work was not only hard, harsh, but also thankless. But he was used to passing from one mundane assignment to another back in his Starfleet career.

_However he did not particularly mind that because he had Rachel, that someone in his life that mattered to him the most, of whom his purpose of remaining in Starfleet was. When Rachel was murdered by the Cardassians, he felt as though his career in Starfleet mattered little to him, which was why he gave it p in the form of getting in serious trouble with Starfleet over a gross violation of the almighty Prime Directive._

_In a harsh, degrading, and demoralizing environment, for Francis to give up on his life over survival would mean death. To survive, one would need something to live fore that made life ultimately worth living._

_But then what would he live for, Francis asked himself in despondency, when everything he had on this earth was taken away from him? His beloved wife was gone, his Starfleet career was gone, and finally his freedom was gone. And for what? To abide by his moral principles? His Roman Catholic religion?_

_Yes, that was all he had. Principles. That was what stayed his hand against a Cardassian boy of twelve during the raid on Bajor's capital city. That was what goaded him to his ideals of fighting against Cardassian tyranny. But even principles would evaporate from his own self within a few days._

_Unless he could get over his despondency. This was where religion came in. If you believed in something far grander than what you experienced on an imperfect world, you would have hope, which made you look forward to the positive, regardless of what happened to you._

_And so in a seemingly pointless existence, Francis slaved away in the dilithium mines, as if nothing all in the entire universe mattered to him anymore._

* * *

"How long were you there?" asked Ben. Across the room the tension experienced among the five children over listening to the Chaplain's life story was almost enough to keep them at the edge of their seating areas, even if it was the cozily carpeted floor they were sitting on.

"_...long…bloody…years…" The Chaplain answered Ben a mite dramatically.

He could almost remember himself working on his tedious and hazardous mining task as he resumed the narration of his life story.

* * *

A/N (1): Much of the battle scenes were derived from the scenes from _Call of Duty 4: Modern Warfare_.

A/N (2): "Yavin" was the name of the planet of the new Rebel base from _Star Wars: Episode IV – A New Hope_

A/N (3): The name "Rilnar" was derived from another alien species from the _Star Trek: Voyager_ series. I was running out of ideas for weird Cardassian names, so I picked that name.

A/N (4): **"_...long…bloody…years…" The Chaplain answered Ben a mite dramatically.** I apologize for the blank; it takes a while for me to do the math for Chaplain Garland's years he spent on the Cardassian dilithium mining planet. I'll leave it that he was imprisoned there for several years until around his 50s. (The rest I'll leave you to figure out for the time being until I come up with a reasonable quantifying number.) Thank you for your patience. Post a comment about the matter if need be; any feedback on this particular matter will be greatly appreciated.

The unique life story of Chaplain Garland will continue on the next chapter (which will be coming up some time)!

Ladies and Gentlemen, my fellow readers and avid/rabid fans of Felicity the American Girl, I regret to inform you that…um…I'm afraid that chapters take very long in coming, as I have pretty intense and tough coursework at Germanna Community College that takes up assloads of my valuable time, not to mention organ lessons in D.C. every Sunday during this [seemingly insufferable] spring semester of my college days. As my priorities mainly go to my schoolwork, I can only guarantee one chapter at a time per month to be posted on this Fan Fiction website. If I'm lucky, I could post one complete chapter every two weeks or so. But worry not; I shan't leave y'all hanging!

P.S.: I've just acquired the latest of the Microsoft Office 2007 Ultimate software suite at a pretty hefty discount at Germanna; say, $59.99 as opposed to the usual monetary order of $120. It works great on my computer (by which I mean it runs fantastic on a computer that has 3GB of memory). Yay! LOL


	45. Chapter 45

_**Star Trek: The Next Generation – Souvenirs**_

**Written By:**_** Commander Cody CC-2224**_

Author's Note:

If you manage to spot any words that are underlined, it's an indication that I had to "fill in the blanks" for the story's sake. The underlines are also an indication that the miscellanies conforming to fair historical accuracy is somewhat doubtful. It also means that I had considerably less imagination in filling these blanks. The underlined words might be changed once thorough research is attempted again, or if I come up with a reasonable word or number set.

* * *

CHAPTER 45

"Much to my unexpected good fortune, which…regrettably, I ne'er had the guts to say 'Thank You' for, an acquaintance of mine managed to secure my very release," the Chaplain continued. "Never recovered fully from those effects, you see. Few days after my release, I started goin' into drinkin' and despair again…until my friend suggested…otherwise…that I seek a religious vocation. Didn't know for sure whether that'ud be some sort of escape from the hell I experienced in my past youth."

_

* * *

_

_1600 hours_

_Rilnar Ke'Vek_

_Down the shaft __ten__ stories deep descended a rusty, squeaky, grated elevator. Riding in the elevator was a formally dressed man by the name of Julian Sykes. His countenance was half-stern, and it usually told business whenever he had to deal business with someone else whom he anticipated would be fairly non-negotiable than he was._

_Julian Sykes was a relatively close friend of Francis Garland, especially during the close of his childhood. The very first time when Francis encountered him was during his first day as a high school freshman, when he was perceived as slow and stupid to begin with (which he was) due to his (up-close and) personal dyslexia problems. It was Julian who helped Francis get through the toughest subjects, as Julian was by far the best and the brightest student at the local Monterey High in the West District of Marin County. They parted ways at the end of high school, but they bumped into each other again by sheer coincidence during their junior years in Starfleet Academy, when Julian transferred to the Academy itself._

_Julian had his own grand ambitions, and so did Francis. However, their ambitions differed. Julian wanted to find an occupation in the Ambassadorial section of Starfleet. Francis, on the other hand, was fairly content to just explore which career level of Starfleet best suited him to the technical specialties he would hone as best as he could. Julian had a passion for the affairs of diplomacy. Francis had just begun to have some sort of passion for the technical field, challenging as it was for the faint of heart, but that was where his ambitions lay, for the most part. When both boys trudged through the minefield of academia and graduated from the Starfleet Academy with honors, Julian and Francis once again parted ways, each to his own career of choice._

_Fast forward 30 years later into the present, and Francis Garland was in much different circumstances, and they certainly were not for the batter, as Julian saw (and knew) now. Just three days ago, he had received the news on a private channel in his Ambassadorial office that Francis was beign held for slave labor at Rilnar Ke'Vek, and he had to inform his wife and three children that he had to get Francis out before he succumbed to overwork and eventual death. Had he been informed a mite sooner, he would have got the task done, but he had no awareness of the circumstances, much less the location until an escaped prisoner from the mine revealed a handful of names, of whom Francis was on the list. Immediately Julian notified the Ambassadorial Commission of his "dept to a good friend" and traveled to Rilnar Ke'Vek by means of a private runabout shuttle craft._

_Now he was at the front desk of the Cardassian mine superintendent, and he anticipated strongly that he was going to have a hell of a time trying to obtain Francis Garland's release. At least that's what he thought._

_"What brings you here, human?" snapped the Cardassian superintendent.  
"I am here to obtain the release of a fellow prisoner…"_

_"Name?" the superintendent interrupted, remembering to ask such a protocol question in the nick of time before Julian could even mention then name of his long lost friend._

_"You mean the prisoner?" asked Julian._

_"No, you idiot. Your name. ID?"_

_"Oh." Julian felt miffed over being called idiot. Most likely it had something to do with Ambassadorial status, and normally most individuals in that rank were never treated lightly. But saving honor and face would do no good to get Francis back._

_"Julian Sykes of the Federation Ambassadorial Agency," he answered him._

_"Purpose of being here?" snapped the superintendent again._

_"As stated before, when you of all people interrupted me," Julian continued through gritted teeth, which sounded almost like a growl, "I am here to obtain the release of a friend by the name of…Francis O'Neill Garland."_

_The superintendent narrowed his eyes at Julian, as if he was suspicious about him mentioning the name. How could word get out to the Ambassadorial Commission about this Francis Garland? Most prisoners in the Cardassian mine of Rilnar Ke'Vek were never heard of again from the outside universe._

_"When did you hear of this…Francis Garland?" the superintendent asked Julian up close and seriously._

_Julian was concerned about divulging the circumstances of information obtained. "A colleague in the Ambassadorial Agency informed me about those…whereabouts," he answered coolly._

_The Cardassian superintendent shuffled through a huge pile of thin, plasma screen based PADDs listing prisoner names in his file drawer until he managed to locate the one for Francis Garland._

_"This is the most…irregular request," said the superintendent grimly in a rather bored voice. "This…Garland human…is being held in the mine…for life."_

_"Is there any way for you to secure his release?"_

_"There would possibly, but I'd have to consult the Legates of Cardassia Prime."_

_"I've already attempted that. The Legates won't even bother."_

_"Without their permission, I simply cannot comply."_

_"You mean you won't."_

_"Exactly."_

_Julian leaned closer to the Cardassian superintendent, as if he was about to pick a nasty fight with him over that particular manner. "As the secondary Federation Ambassador of Starfleet, I demand the release of Mr. Francis Garland."_

_"This defiance of Cardassian military law is not worthy of my reputation, much less my life," snarled the superintendent._

_"Then maybe this will," said Julian, as he dug out his black briefcase from beside his right side and slammed it directly on the middle of the superintendent's desk. He slapped open the briefcase, revealing a fairly hefty quantity of gold-pressed latinum bars. 150 bars were offered to the officer as a bribe. The bars were obtained on loan from the treasury at Fort Knox, and Julian promised that he would repay the loan within six to twelve months by dealing business with the fairly scrupulous Ferengi, although sometimes they could be a mite unscrupulous in their business transactions, which is why caution would be normally advised when it came to them. Of course, the latinum could be replicated so as to fool the Cardassians, but by that time they realized an attempted forgery, the Cardassian hunting squads would be on Julian's tail in no time, and he would be blown to pieces in his Delta Flyer. At least real gold might throw off the Cardassians for a while, and perhaps keep them satisfied. Julian hoped desperately that such a generous-looking amount would be enough to bribe the Cardassian mine superintendent._

_The superintendent gasped in awe. "Ooh. Ahh. Yesss…" He looked up. "Wherever did you get that?"_

_"Donated…is what?" Julian answered the superintendent rather vaguely._

_The superintendent immediately got back to his senses from having momentary delusions of grandeur over being rich beyond his wildest dreams and tested one of the latinum bars by tapping it hard on his metallic desk and slammed the briefcase shut with a bang. Then he snapped his right-hand finger, as if to summon his favorite Cardassian steward. His Cardassian steward came._

_"Inform the guard captain to bring forth Prisoner No. 8411. Francis Garland."_

_"Prisoner No. 8411 has been condemned to serve an eternal lifetime in the mines," answered the steward coolly. "I do not understand…you do not have the authority…"_

_"Just do it," growled the superintendent._

_The steward made a formal bow in military style, and strutted of to fetch the camp prisoner. Meanwhile the superintendent made a fierce face at Julian._

_"This latinum had better be worth this exchange," growled the Cardassian superintendent. "If you defraud me, I will make sure that Mr. Garland is kidnapped and taken back to the mines."_

_"It is," reassured Julian. "If you want more reassurances about your life, you can inform your government that it would be considered…an act of severing diplomatic relations with the Federation…if you refused a Federation ambassador. Or, for that matter, if you killed me."_

_Julian made a mental note to make sure that Francis was well guarded if he was to take him back to his home for recuperation. Assuming, of course, if he could get to Francis himself._

* * *

"It so happened it was an old friend o' mine who happened to work at the ambassadorial level of Starfleet. Last thing he told me, his wife persuaded him to secure my release," the Chaplain told the children. "Last thing he told me, his wife persuaded him to secure my release…assuming of course, if he could do it and at the same time keep his life…and his livelihood."

_

* * *

_

A few moments later (for what seemed like an eternal half-hour), the Cardassian mining camp guards arrived promptly with Francis Garland in tow. Their disruptor rifles were slung on their right shoulders, and their straps almost sagged, and the weapons themselves showed externally visible signs of wear and tear.

_Julian could not believe his eyes. The last time he saw Francis was during college graduation. Could it really be Francis? he anxiously asked himself._

_Julian was his close friend since his childhood. Too exhausted, Francis could barely recognize him. It was quite a long time since they encountered each other._

_And Francis looked pretty gaunt and already in his fifties. But then again, he looked pretty strong, after around __seven__ long years in manual labor. And he looked pretty weary…at the very same time._

_The Cardassian soldiers handed over Francis to Ambassador Sykes by shoving him over to him. Julian managed to catch him and wrapped his arms around his long-lost friend to keep him from falling._

* * *

"What did he look like?" asked Elizabeth.

"At that time? Well…he looked kind of fatherly," the Chaplain answered her. "He was pretty handsome, too. But that was long ago."

"What does he look like now?" asked Ben.

"Um…he looks a mite stiffed…stressed…for a middle-aged guy. You'll encounter more of him as I continue."

"What does middle-aged mean?" asked William curiously.

"Means the man reached his fifties. Now let's get back to the story, shall we?"

Felicity could only sigh in exasperation. _When would William _ever_ stop interrupting?_ She asked herself wryly.

_

* * *

_

Julian carried a slumped Francis Garland on his right-shoulder. It was a pretty heavy weight to carry, and whatever huge steps he could have taken in a short while had to be twice lengthened by Francis' exhaustive state, as well as his lack of spirit, which was sort of acting as some kind of laxative over his body.

_Julian crossed the tunnel, which turned to the right side and gradually elevating. Gruff, armed Cardassian guards parted way for Julian and his friend. He kept trudging upward for a few minutes until he reached the sealed entrance to the surface, guarded by two heavily armed Cardassian shock troopers. The trooper on the left-hand side of the doorway pried open a door panel near his right side and inputted a password displaying bizarre-looking Cardassian numeric-alphabet letters. With a very loud squeaking sound the double blast doors sluggishly opened in opposite directions. The trooper inputted another password and the force field magically disappeared._

_Julian stepped outside, with Francis slumped on his side. The icy wind bit at his exposed face, and in spite of the thick fur layers covering his body he still found himself shivering. Squinting his eyes a little to keep the snowflakes out of his eyes, he spotted a lone Delta Flyer, which he personally arranged to pick up him and Francis from the surface near the entrance of the underground mine._

_"Come on!" shouted Julian to the exhausted Francis. "We're nearly there! Don't give up! Not now, for Christ's sake!"_

_The man continued trudging through the six-inch layer of snow, his vulcanized rubber boots getting a mite stuck. It was difficult to walk through the thickness of the snow and at the same time heft his friend through. But Julian pushed through._

_Immediately two crewmen of the Delta Flyer arrived promptly to take Francis off Julian's exhausting arms._

_"We got him, sir," said one of the crewmen._

_"Thanks a million," Julian tried to compliment politely, despite his exhaustiveness._

_The men stepped into the Delta Flyer via the starboard egress and a third crewman near the egress sealed the door shut. The door sealed shut by closing upward and the locking mechanism engaged with a pneumatic hiss._

_The crewman banged his hand on a panel near the pilot. "We're go!" he called._

_The engines of the Delta Flyer were primed. In a few seconds the craft lifted off steadily, departing the icy colony moon or Rilnar Ke'Vek – hopefully forever._

* * *

"And then what happened next?" asked Elizabeth, who, like Felicity, was starting to grow a mite impatient for the tension and suspense to build up in the Chaplain's life story.

"Well, we had a little chitchat," the Chaplain answered her frankly. "Him and me. Just the two o' us together, sittin' by the gas fire."

From the looks of the children's faces, they had never heard of the term before. They started glancing at one another, as if the whole concept of a gas-lit fireplace was so new to them, which it was. But William seemed to have quite a knack for some of the technical stuff that the Chaplain as mentioning a tad indiscriminately, which was why he couldn't help perking up to ask the Chaplain questions about the new stuff in the future of the 24th century.

"What's a gas-fire?" William started asking the Chaplain.

The Chaplain launched into a brief explanation of the Franklin Stove. The stove was special in that it involved advanced metallurgy in its structural integrity. Though Benjamin Franklin was often credited with the invention of the Franklin stove, the circulating stove, made of cast iron was said to be invented seventy years prior to Franklin's experimentation with the stove. However, the cast iron stoves tended to crack when fired. What Franklin did, however, was sort of improve on the stove itself by making it more heat resistant. Historical records in the Federation LCARS archives had it that Franklin put the developmental design in the public domain so that others would benefit from it.

"Well, you've heard o' the Franklin Stove. Right?" Felicity and her friends still had no elementary understanding as to what the Chaplain himself quite meant. Because the Franklin stove was invented preceding their time as opposed to _after_, the Chaplain had no qualms about mentioning to them the design of the stove itself. Basically he conveyed to them that the stove was just some sort of improvement on the other stoves made of cast iron, except it was made more heat resistant thanks to the advanced metallurgy that Franklin concocted.

"'Twas invented, so to speak, back in the 1700s; 1742, 'round thirty years 'fore your time, prior the ancient Revolution. Later on we hit upon natural gas reserves, so we've been prying it outta the earth…and other planets 'round the turn of the 21st century…and the 22nd century, and the 23rd century, and even in this century, by which I mean of course the 24th century. The gas is burned to emit warmth, basically. So I'll leave it at that."

Because he did not want to go through further historical aspects of natural gas discovery (as used as a chemical aspects of propane, used mainly on gas heaters and fireplaces), since he had his own life story to tell. Besides, the children still wouldn't understand it, and he thought it best not to give too much overwhelming stuff about the future, since it would put him at even greater risk of getting in trouble with violating the almighty Temporal Prime Directive.

_

* * *

_

Two days later…

_After the rescue attempt…_

_Recuperation back at Mr. Sykes' house seemed like forever. Francis' vision gradually cleared. Lying on the bed upward he could make out the roughly plastered creamy-white ceiling, which to his blurry vision could almost seem to be some sort of whitey nothingness, as if he was ushered into heaven itself. The room was dark, however, with a tinge of light beaming from a single window situated at Francis' left hand side of his bed._

_Francis could only groan. Acting like a little kid, in spite of his age of around his fifties, that little beam of light shining from the window only gave him some sort of his reminder during his childhood about getting up early in the morning, even if he didn't want to. So he pulled back the covers, stuffed the pillow in front of his face (without suffocating himself) and went back to sleep._

_But Francis was not to be left alone for long. A moment later, a woman with curly hair that Francis could barely make out in her silhouette form was stepping quietly into the room._

_"Well, good morning, sleepyhead," said the woman._

_Francis didn't stir from his sleep. Promptly the woman started opening the blinds of the bedroom._

_"No, no, no, don't…" mumbled Francis in a grumbling sort of way. "I need my sleep…I need my sleep…"_

_"You've slept quite long enough, Mr. Garland," said the woman. "It's rather unhealthy to oversleep. Your muscles shall atrophy if you stay in bed for too long."_

_Francis' vision cleared as he squinted his eyes. He held his hands from his face to shield his eyes from the bright fluorescent light. Because Francis was so used to the ambient light in the mines, he had great difficulty adjusting his eyes to the bright fluorescent light._

_The woman was Julian's middle-aged wife, April Sykes. Her curly black-brown was starting to show patches of snowy white. Despite getting to the pinnacle of middle age, her face barely showed a wrinkle. Her accent was that of a British Cockney accent. April almost always had the tendency to put on airs, especially in front of her guests, though much of the time she tried to be as courteous as she could._

_"What time is it?" Francis asked Mrs. Sykes._

_"Half past eight," she replied._

_Francis was dazed. "Half past…" He shot back a quick but rather cautious glance at Mrs. Sykes. "How long have I been asleep?"_

_"You've been asleep for nearly twelve hours," Mrs. Sykes answered him. "Now get dressed. You're a-coming downstairs with us to break the fast."_

_Francis hurried in getting dressed. After he had done so, he stepped downstairs and into the brightly lit kitchen. In the middle of the kitchen was the family table, and it almost always stayed in the middle of the kitchen floor as long as Julian and April were living in the house. The ones left were Julian and his wife. Francis sat at the other end of the circular polished maple wooden table._

_Breakfast comprised of cooked Quaker oats, the real type, as opposed to the replicated type. Also included in the breakfast menu were real smoked pork sausages and Sally Lunn buns._

* * *

"That sounds like a true, delicious English meal," Elizabeth complimented sweetly.

"Mmm…" crooned Felicity, eyes closed, and imagining that she were back at home tasting Mother's fine cooking. Ben in the meantime only heaved a wry sigh over the sentimentalism that the girls were displaying.

_

* * *

_

Francis had never heard about Julian's wife until he was informed three years after his graduation from Starfleet Academy. April was from a fairly well-off middle class family in New York that moved from Oxford in England. She went to California due to being called for a role on some Hollywood soap opera, and the opportunity was too good to be missed. It so happened that April encountered Julian while he was visiting the Hollywood sets. The local newspapers and even a handful of the billboard advertisement signs had her pretty face plastered all over.

_But all that was long ago. Here both Julian and April were content to live a fairly stable family life. Their five children were already grown up now, and the middle-aged couple were just as content as ever to stay where they were in San Francisco, because their home was as close to the Starfleet Headquarters, where Julian held his occupation as one of the ambassadors. The last time Francis encountered April was the day when he had just received his assignment to the U.S.S. Odyssey._

_"Francis?" April Sykes called him. In reply, Francis looked up at her, directly from busying himself with chewing on his pork sausage._

_"Julian and I have been talking about this…yesterday night," April began. "The day you were brought here."_

_"I take it it's 'bout me," Francis suspected._

_"To be precise, yes," said April. "We had the thought…that you should probably go back…to Starfleet."_

_"I was fired, April!" Francis responded aloud quite cynically. "Thirty years ago! That much is long gone."_

_"But…I think that's about to be changed, Francis," April tried to assure him. "The Federation-Cardassian war is about to come to end. Both sides don't seem to have the nerve to continue the fight. Oh, I know you lost track of the time, Francis; God knows I can't blame you. But, you see…"_

_"How so?" Francis interrupted her._

_April made a rather wry face. "The stalemate, Francis. At least everyone in the neighborhood knows."_

_Silent glances were exchanged among the three. Around the mid 2360s, the entire conflict was at the point of settling into a stalemate. This made Francis himself wonder whether the cause he was fighting for against the Maquis was for nothing. But although all that animosity against the Cardassians still had not cooled, the issue seemed to be too trivial to be discussed, at least for Julian and April. Besides, it seemed about time to think about his future. Francis cynically cleared his throat._

_"Am I to go back to Starfleet?" he asked rather rhetorically. "As to do you both a favor for the rescue from that goddamn Cardassian mining facility on Rilnar Ke'Vek?" He sort of sounded like an immature kid saying things like that, but that was how he felt right now, considering what he left behind during the youth of his past._

_"Well…not so much as a favor for _us_, Francis. For _you_."_

_"But what if I had somethin' else for myself in mind?" Francis put in right away._

_April perked her head back at Francis. "Like what?" she asked him, trying not to sound too unfriendly to Francis himself._

_"Like enterin' the holy priesthood."_

_April became wide-eyed over Francis' reply. Julian in the meantime was busying himself obsessively with his pork sausage sandwich in a Sally Lunn bologna loaf._

_"Well…that's all well and good, Francis," April sort of complimented. "Are you sure about that? What about your career?"_

_"Gone," Francis answered April right away without even as much as an ounce of hesitation._

_"But you can't just simply…" April was about to put in a mite anxiously when she stopped over Francis heaving a heavy groan. To her it was some sort of sign that Francis didn't need to hear about it. It also meant that Francis had something else to say, and she prepared to hear it while she looked at him with motherly eyes._

_"I think…my mind…seems to be made up here," Francis said simply._

_Julian became a mite astounded over this. "That soon?" he queried right away. "Really?"_

_"Heavens, Julian, your manners!" April exclaimed at Julian, mouth agape. "Speaking with your mouth full of food…!"_

_Julian made some sort of hand gesture with his left hand as to indicate that April should at least come down and not get into hysteria over something so trivial to him as inappropriate table manners at the home._

_"It's what goaded me to join the Maquis right away the moment I heard of it."_

_"That's…that's awfully remarkable over how you manage to make up your mind over this particular matter this quickly," remarked Julian._

_Despite Julian's remark, he didn't seem to be the least bit surprised. When it came to specializing in the technical field, especially in an area too challenging for the faint of heart, Francis jumped at the idea almost right away. When he heard of the Maquis, he immediately jumped in. And now…when it came to entering the priesthood, the thought of it just seemed to send some kind of a shockwave to both Julian and April; Julian, especially, his close friend. It seemed as though this habit of making up his mind right away never seemed to leave him, despite reaching his __fifties__._

_"Well…does very little good to procrastinate," Francis remarked pretty simply._

_Julian and April immediately exchanged glances over Francis' attitude. "Well, tell him, Julian," April admonished him._

_Julian sighed. "Um…Francis, you might consider giving that idea a little more…meditation."_

_"Excuse me?" Francis perked up right away, after gulping down orange juice from a huge glass._

_"Um…much as we would consider it a great blessing for a close friend to enter the priesthood, Francis,…I have a gut feeling that the road to the priesthood is going to be…a tough nut to crack._

_"Oh," said Francis._

_"The coursework…from what I've heard…is quite tough. Philosophy, for example…well, I was _this_ close to failing the Philosophy subjects." He made a "C" shape with his right hand finger and thumb. "Then there's advanced theology…ranging in at least three levels…in increasing levels of difficulty…plus the coursework is very, very demanding."_

_"I had similar circumstances like that in the engineering field," Francis put in. The coursework in the engineering field, especially in the 24th century was tough and extra demanding, as most college-level subjects were in general. That is, for most people who are extraordinarily slow learners. And Francis, given his somewhat dyslexic condition, was one of them, just as he had always been in his school days._

_"Well, then. Perhaps you won't feel like you're not at home," said Julian. "But…but, I want to let you know of this, Francis, because it's very possible you still might have…your dyslexic condition. And…the unfortunate part is that…I won't be able to be of much help to you in these matters. I'm just not that much of a…philosophical…much less an expert…you know, theologian."_

_Silence hovered across the breakfast table. What Julian was saying to Francis was pretty true, at least in life. But there was something within Francis that told him not to get discouraged in his choice._

_"And it's also the life you'll live," continued Julian. "You'll be bound to obligation. You'll be bound to your superior. And not only that…you'll…well, you'll be told to go places you won't want to go. Anywhere you're assigned…you can't get too picky as to which parish is comfy for the likes of you. You go where you're told to go; at least that's how it is."_

_Francis' face went pretty wry as he found himself unable not to give this matter some thought. He started wondering whether he was making his decision to enter the priesthood too soon; to prematurely. What Julian had just conveyed to him about priestly assignments was like being conveyed a down-to-earth edition of a bible passage from the canonical Gospel of John, which featured a passage of the Son of God warning his followers about having someone lead you by the hand and dressing you up in clothes that you didn't take exactly a fondness to wearing but had you had to wear the clothes anyway because you were told to, and you had to go places where you wouldn't want to go because of your unwillingness to go. As with making life-changing choices in life, it was easier to declare an intention then actually fulfilling that intention. Loads of people made lofty intentions for their lives but few ever actually fulfilled them because the various trials and tribulations that life often brings bogs them down to the point of total despondency._

_But one thing that almost never seemed to leave Francis behind was his faith in a Divine Providence. It was what he carried with him through the rest of his Starfleet career; it was what kept him alive during his military service in the Maquis, and even in the Cardassian mines. It seemed that without faith, man would just give up in life, and become totally enveloped in a web of indecisiveness and hopelessness. Francis decided that if faith in Providence got him all the way through three life-changing trials, it would surely get him through the course of preparing for the priesthood._

_Francis took a deep breath before he stated his seemingly solemn intention._

_"Well, Julian," he began. "I've got God on my side in this matter. If he could move mountains and part the watery oceans like semi-viscous gel, he sure as hell can move my abhorrently dyslexic mind. And my body."_

_If the Son of God ever talked about people having seemingly blind faith in Him just as he encountered the centurion, Francis was most likely one of them. In spite of warnings about what would be in store for the priesthood, Francis would not yield. April could not help beaming warmly at Francis over his little personal victory over discouragement._

_"What a marvel," she complimented warmly to Francis. "A true believer."_

_Julian simply shrugged his shoulders in response. But he made no comment, nor any objection. Once Francis seemed to make up his mind, there was no point making further objections; it was almost as if it was the will of God._

_But in his heart Julian seemed to have difficulty adjusting to Francis' seemingly sudden decision, much less the way Francis relayed it to him. Now it was not surprising to him that Francis made personal life-changing decisions like that; he did that when he wanted to go to Starfleet's technical field; he also did that when he wanted to join the Maquis. But the priesthood? That was a mite too unusual; too strange; too soon. Plus he seemed to get the impression that inside Francis was making his decision in a rather casual manner, even if he tried to cloak his decision-making casualness with the cloak of theatrical heaven-sent inspiration._

_And Francis seemed to suspect it. Which was why he had to get Julian out of that mindset before he started getting driven to further upset feelings._

_"Julian, I don't mean to be impolite," Francis tried to assure him, in a sort of apologetic way. "It's been…__seven__ years since I've…well…" He seemed to have hesitancy conveying to him the idea that he was estranged from all humane human life since his days in the Cardassian mines._

_But even Julian himself wanted to be spared the lectures of apologies involved._

_"No offense taken, Francis," he interjected right away while Francis was in the midst of trying to put back together again his stumbled train of thought. "I…I make no objection as to your decision. You seemed to have made up your mind entirely, all right, and it would be sort of pointless to continue objecting so. Now…" he continued, after clearing his throat a mite nervously, as if he was having a VIP as a guest in his home, "It may be…that my perspective is wrong; I've never set foot in a seminary even once during the course of my life. But…I just want you to be aware of those…possible aspects that may very well apply in whatever seminary you're going to…the sorts that you encounter in college life."_

_"But you see…" interjected Francis, "…There is this calling…to God's service…and if God usually calls someone, he usually does it once."_

_"Three times, sometimes, to be exact on my recall of Scripture. Just like he did to young Samuel. 'Cept he was only a boy, and had to be told many times."_

_"Well, for me, the calling goes once," Francis informed his friend. "Just like it did when I first heard about the Maquis." He made a short pause in the midst of his speech. "And I didn't yield, Julian. It's not like he forced me to do it or anything like that. I answered voluntarily, just like I answered voluntarily when I enlisted myself to the service of the Maquis. Here, I'm enlisting myself in the army of Christ."_

_Silence hovered over the room again._

_"I know what you're thinking," said Francis. "I want purpose here. And…I'm just not…I just ain't gonna find it in Starfleet." Then as if some sort of cluelessness came upon Francis, he started darting his eyes across the room in some sort of vibrant display of bewilderment. "But…_where_?" he asked himself quietly, mouthing his words._

* * *

"This point on, I felt called to a religious life…filled with activity of course," the Chaplain continued. "The priesthood. I decided…I needed to make some sort of difference to my human compatriots, as well as to the glory of God. But where to go…was the problem. My close friend told me of a special seminary for men in their twenties, as well as for people reaching the climax of the prime of their lives. 'Twas called the St. George Soros Seminary in Baja California."

_

* * *

_

Mid-July, 2361

_For a man nearly past middle-age, Francis Garland still thought of himself as an individual still cut out to make his mark in his legacy as someone who would make a pretty significant difference in shepherding souls for Christ. But he still needed a handful of years worth of intellectual preparation, at minimum, four to six years in the seminary if he was to get adequate in his pastoral __craft__._

_A group of eleven diverse passengers previously assembled in the rustic, dusty Starfleet shipyards in San Francisco were boarding a Delta Flyer. Already in his late fifties, Francis boarded the Flyer along with eleven other men of diverse races and ages. The passengers comprised of a two colored men, a horny-faced man, four Trills, two Bajorans, and a Betazoid humanoid male. Francis was the twelfth pilot and the only white human male in the midst of an alien crew; he seemed to feel as though it was the white man's turn to feel alienated in the midst of a weird mix of humanoid entities. However, the Betazoid, the Bajorans, and the trills were as human as weird aliens could be. Because the loud hum of the engines was resonating in the cabin, the passengers had to speak out quite loud to each other in order to get heard across the din._

_"What's our destination?" asked the horn man._

_"No man's land," answered the human pilot._

_"Whaddaya mean?" asked one of the young colored men, shaking off the white-colored dust that accumulated on his polished black boots. The ground in the shipyards was white-colored, and it reflected the sun to a great degree that some of the passengers, including the pilot, were forced to squint their eyes._

_"Baja California. There's an underground complex called Area 52 in the midst of this desert, built prior to the Third World War."_

_"Like Area 51?" asked one of the Trills._

_"Yup. Kinda close to that. It's an underground seminary."_

_"Oh. That," Francis commented to himself._

_"What?" asked the Betazoid coolly. "You've never heard of it before?"_

_"No, no. I have," said Francis. "Good friend o' mine told me that 'fore I left in a hurry." It was sort of a joke, actually; Francis was actually told that by Julian a few weeks before he left the Sykes residence for the Starfleet yards._

_"Strap yourselves in, boys!" called the Flyer co-pilot. "We_

_"Have faith!" the Chaplain called back to the pilot in a joking manner._

_"Not today!" the pilot called back, responding to the joke half-humorously._

_The Delta Flyer made a preliminary lift-off in the manner of a V-TOL aircraft and accelerated swiftly into the unknown regions of the California deserts._

* * *

"What was the ride like?" asked Felicity, curious about what a ride in a shuttlecraft would look like.

"It flew, right?" asked William.

"Oh, yeah. Yeah, it flew," the Chaplain responded rather simply to the curious queries of Felicity and her little brother. "Yeah; the ride was quite…exhilarating. If you rode on something like that, you'd be goddamn amazed at how well the vehicle flies; you'd feel as though you was riding a goddamn bird."

_

* * *

_

The Delta Flyer made a fairly smooth landing on the asphalted landing pad near a security checkpoint closed off by a barber-colored barrier of straight-striped red and white.

_A few seconds later, a humanoid male person accompanied by two human guards met up promptly with the group, treating them like cadets from Starfleet. His name was Karolus Kraszinsky, and he was the Assistant Head of the underground seminary. He came mainly from some rural region in Poland and emigrated to the USA at the turn of the 21st century. Due to his way with people, especially in the open air from where he came from, he liked a good outing when it came to meeting new people, although that was done on some occasions. In the case of this group, they were pretty lucky to have the assistant head meet up with them personally._

_"Gentlemen, welcome to Area 51," he greeted the young recruits in his thick English._

_Francis looked the gentleman in the eye rather skeptically, as if he really didn't believe what he was actually saying. Area 51? Couldn't be; the pilot said it was Area 52._

_"_This_…is Area 51?" asked Francis rather skeptically._

_Area 51 was a clandestine underground complex built by the U.S. government for providing cover for clandestine operations regarding national security. Special projects that involved gaining the advantage over America's potential foreign and domestic enemies had to operate in secret if it was to gain victory. Area 52 was similar to the design of Area 51, except its primary purpose was to ensure a system of continuity for the priesthood in the Roman Catholic Church in the likely event of a nuclear war.__ As if ensuring the continuity of the Church leaders was more important than ensuring the continuity of world governments._

_"What _appears_ to be Area 51," the Assistant Head elucidated in a corrective manner. He cleared his throat a mite nervously, thinking that the newcomers might take some offense in case they got sorely disappointed. "Actually, this is Area 52, an underground seminary complex built in Baja California prior to the Third World War."_

_"_How_ prior?" asked one of the young colored men, with is inflection up._

_"__Three__ years," answered the Assistant Head. "he turned around, as if in some sort of gesture to have the boys follow him deeper and deeper into the complex, thus satisfying their overall curiosity of the complex itself. "This way, um…gentlemen," he coaxed._

_Francis and the other recruits had to proceed via a thorough security checkpoint before they could proceed to the entrance of the underground seminary complex. The Assistant Head led the men, eager to get them set up. Two pneumatic pressure doors built to act as a deterrent against toxic chemical and biological agents in the event of chemical and biological warfare slid open in a rather lethargic manner. The Assistant Head and the men stepped further inside, and the pneumatic metal doors were slowly sealed shut hermetically. For the young recruits, the whole experience felt like a tour around a restricted area._

_And for them it was a tour._

_The Assistant Head ushered the men into the grated lift, which looked very much like the meshed lift that Francis set his eyes on in the Cardassian mine in Rilnar Ke'Vek. Francis himself seemed to get some shudders from setting his eyes again on a lift like that, but he overcame it just to keep calm during this stimulating tour de force of the complex. When everyone in the group was inside the large elevator, the Assistant Head hit the large, ancient pushbutton with a strike of his right-hand fist. The motors cranked and whirred, and the elevator was transporting the entire group several feet below ground level. While in the elevator, the Assistant Head just continued lecturing the recruits a little about the history of this complex._

_"This grand and glorious complex was sponsored from the United States Council of Catholic Bishops in __2047__, again to emphasize, __three__ years prior to the Third World War, which started right around the turn of the 21st century. While the whole damn war was going on for __thirteen__ long years, this entire complex was also used for government and corporate VIPs, people who had greater influence all over the world. They certainly would have been needed if the whole damn war was to be rebuilt after this war."_

_The Third World War started around the 2050s and took an end around 2063, the year when mankind made its first contact with an alien species, the Vulcans, thanks largely to Zefram Cochrane and his trusty Phoenix spaceship. Due to the pre-war hysteria, the U.S. bishops were concerned about an imminent shortage of clergymen (including college educated people. The seminary was also used as a private underground campus.) Francis was awed over how much history remained in this complex since its inception._

_The meshed elevator reached its destination floor with a heavy jolt, and Francis and the other recruits nearly lost their balance as a result. After some fair reassurance that everything would be fine, the Assistant Head led the recruits into the center gathering hall, the first place that they set foot on immediately after exiting the lift. The center hall was modeled directly after the crypt level of the Basilica National Shrine in the Washington District of Columbia of the past, before it, too, suffered heavy damage during the Third World war (it was rebuilt years later at the latter part of the 21st century). The hall was well-lit; with over hundreds of fluorescent lights spanning every area of square feet across the vast ceiling area blanketing the vast gathering hall. Support columns bearing marble plaques engraved with the names of a vast variety of benefactors, builders, and architects who contributed to the existence of the underground seminary complex were distanced at least more than __twenty__ feet away from each other, making the entire hall seem very, very roomy. Panavision security cameras were positioned at every corner of the gathering center hall._

_A restaurant was located at the __left__ end of the hall, and to the __right__ of the hall was a separate section study and spiritual meditation. Best of all, the entire complex was run entirely by men, males of different races and species (as it would have been in almost any Roman Catholic seminary at long past), ranging from cooks to fully-employed janitors. Many of the men studying in the seminary found it immensely helpful that there weren't any women to distract them potentially from their serious studies._

_The Assistant Head then led the recruits to a dormitory hall __two__ stories down, which was, the second level from the __first__ level. The route to the dorm halls was taken via a fairly steep staircase. A lift was there for people with disabilities, but the Assistant Head felt like taking the staircase for exercise purposes. The group finally reached the corridor, which had the same width as that of a Galaxy class starship. The dorm corridor was pretty wide that it looked like the hall of a fancy hotel suite._

_"This…is your dormitory area, gentlemen," announced the Assistant head._

_The group resumed proceeding until they reached a dorm room with its heavily bolted door labeled "Room 327". This room was the one Francis was assigned. Among that, Francis was also assigned a roommate, a humanoid alien with a pale-blue face._

_Settling down, Francis shoved his two suitcases near the bunk bed and heaved his ultra-large duffel bag at the pillow's end of the bottom bunk. Both mates agreed to which bunks they would sleep on; Francis would sleep at the bottom bunk, while his roommate sleeps at the top bunk. His roommate was the one who made the pretty firm decision to sleep on the top bunk; Francis, on the other hand, didn't give that much care as to which bunk to sleep in, as long as there was a bunk available for him to sleep on._

* * *

Though Francis would not have known it at that time, that same roommate of his would eventually serve as a pastoral missionary on board a Miranda-Class starship called the _U. S. S. Anselm_.

"What's that?" asked Felicity out of curiosity. Francis knew full well it was mainly about the St. George Soros Seminary in Baja California.

"Well…my telling you this is…going to violate the Temporal Prime Directive, 'cause that stuff'll contain information about the future. But I can tell you…a little about it. It's…maybe _was_, an underground facility, safe from all forms of nuclear, biological, and chemical warfare, built around the middle part of the 21st century, I guess a relative few years prior to the day when warp drive was first tested and Earth received its first dose of alien contact."

What the Chaplain was relating at this point was true, though some crucial facts were deliberately missed out, due to the regulations of the Temporal Prime Directive. First, the St. George Soros Seminary in Baja California (that is, the southern part of the U.S. State of California), was a large, underground seminary located in the middle of one of California's desert wasteland, constructed three years prior to the start of the Third World War. The underground seminary facility was named after the late Roman Catholic archbishop of the Diocese of Sacramento in Southern California, George Soros, who was then recently canonized as America's 21st century saint by Pope Sylvester III. Urban legend had it that Archbishop George Soros had an apparition from Mary the Mother of God, who conveyed to him the foretelling of an apocalyptic nuclear war that was to take place in the mid 21st century. The Mother of God wanted him to ensure the continuity of the Catholic priesthood so that the souls on Earth would not be left without spiritual guidance. Taking her at her word, Archbishop Soros informed the other archbishops of this incident across the United States. That was when the USCCB convened in 2047, and they voted to fund the mammoth project of an underground seminary in the southern part of California, known as Baja California.

The underground facility was very reminiscent of Area 51, and during the War, only a certain number of students and government VIPs in the seminary knew the location, for fear that the EECON faction would discover it and severely compromise a large percentage of the seminarians studying for the priesthood and spreading the Roman Catholic faith. Its construction was largely influenced, and given authorization for private funding by the United States Council of Catholic Bishops, when there was fear and legitimate concern of imminent biological, chemical, and nuclear warfare, due to the pre-World War Three scare mania. However, the seminary was also used as a shelter for refugees fleeing the EECON faction. Funding for the facility was done mainly through electronic transaction, thanks to a network of strategically planted underground wires, which to this day remained undisclosed for security purposes.

The second fact was that warp drive was primarily invented and developed by a rustic Earthling by the name of Zefram Cochrane. Earth's first contact with sentient alien entities was in part due to Cochrane testing his prototype warp vessel, the _Phoenix_, a space vessel constructed out of a Titan missile.

"And it was there where I studied and lived most of the time around my early forties," added the Chaplain, referring to the St. George Soros seminary. He silenced himself suddenly, almost lending to the implication that he was done.

"What?" asked Ben rather skeptically. "That's _all_?"

"Are you sure, Reverend?" asked Felicity rather wistfully. "There's got to be much more going on in your life."

"Well…I suppose there was," answered the Chaplain a little sheepishly.

"So tell is then," said Elizabeth a little demandingly.

"All right, all right." Chaplain Garland cleared his throat. "After I truly knew that the priesthood was just the right…vocation, if you will, I was summoned to be ordained by Bishop Sam Clark."

"What does that mean?" asked William curiously, not having any ounce of knowledge regarding priestly ordination in the Church.

"Well, it's basically the kindly old Bishop lays his all-gentle hands directly on the forehead of the one being ordained. The one being ordained is on all knees, of course, as a sign of great humility towards his superior himself, as well as toward God."

"Anything else you'd like to tell us during that moment?" asked Ben, who was at this point having some suspicion regarding anything weird during an ordination ceremony.

"Well,…there's singin'. Beautiful singin'. All choir and organ. No goddamn rock-n-roll." He shook his head regarding the term. "Ne'er mind. The point is, it's damn smoothin' and damn beautiful. Memorable, too, I'll gladly add."

"Do you get to marry?" asked Ben curiously. In the Anglican Church, as well as any of the Protestant churches, marriage in the clergy was not all that unusual. But in the Roman Catholic Church, there were strict rules regarding priestly celibacy.

"Marry?" asked the Chaplain.

"Aye."

Chaplain Garland just shook his head like a dog wagging off annoying gnats. "Nope. Once you're ordained, you're God's entirely. You belong to Him, and Him alone, and ain't nobody's got the right to say otherwise. Clerical marriage, I think, would very much distract one from his priestly duties, 'specially since he's got assloads of Church faithful to minister in the flock of Christ."

"Oh." Ben lurched his head gently around the room, trying to reflect on what the Chaplain had been saying the last few seconds ago. For him, the whole ordination thing was just bizarre to him, and Ben could almost tell from the look of the older girls' faces that it was bizarre to them as well. As for little Nan, and William, well, they probably would not have understood the ordination concept that much.

"Continue the story, please," said Elizabeth as politely as she could in her ladylike manners.

"Righty." The Chaplain cleared his throat again. "So…after my ordination, my superior…Bishop Clark, decided to station me as one of the chaplains on board an excellently refitted Excelsior Class starship called the _U.S.S. Cole_." The Chaplain didn't get that much into the details of the ship, but the Excelsior class starship he was describing was a refitted version with a variant hull configuration, which was introduced several years after the first prototype Excelsior.

"The Cole?" Elizabeth piped up excitedly, feeling quite charmed over the name of it. "Wow; I have a ship named after _me_?"

Chaplain Garland could only chuckle in response over Elizabeth's excitement on having ship named after her. But he had to remind her that was most likely named after some other person by the name of "Cole". "No, Miss," he answered her. "I think it was a different Cole; maybe one related to you, or perhaps one that has no distant relations with the family you belong in the late 18th century." Again, the Chaplain had to refrain from divulging extraneous details on the circumstances of the ship's name because it concerned future events.

"If only the former statement were true," Felicity put in rather wistfully, "I should feel terribly jealous."

Elizabeth made a serious glance at Felicity over her best friend's bold declaration. "Oh, Lissie," she said to her, as if trying to tell her something that would remind Felicity not to feel jealous about the good luck of other people.

"Shall I continue with the rest of the story, ladies?" asked the Chaplain. He was merely asking the question so as to snatch back the attention of both Felicity and Elizabeth.

Both Felicity and Elizabeth nodded their heads in prompt response. It took a bit of a while for Chaplain Garland to get back to his train of thought, so there was a short pause before he resumed his dedicated storytelling.

"Anyway," he continued briskly, "The _Cole_ was on its way to…"

_

* * *

_

Chaplain Garland arrived at the same area where he said his last goodbye to his Starfleet career, and to Starfleet itself. This time he was back, but not as a member of Starfleet, but as a civilian; a pastor to the spiritual neads of the crew of the starship he was assigned to.

_He soaked in one long glance at the new starship in the Spacedock window. It was a brand-new starship in the Excelsior class – the _U. S. S. Cole_, with the registration NCC-__86657__. The vessel itself was a refitted Excelsior Class starship with a varient hull configuration. Its design was sleek, like many of its Excelsior predecessors._

_Its grandness, he felt, made up for its fairly modest size. Chaplain Garland had been on a Galaxy class before, so it would take him a little while for him to personally adjust to his new shipshape surroundings._

* * *

"'Twas a sleek-ish ship, to be put quite plainly," the Chaplain informed in some sort of reminiscing way. "Smaller than the _Enterprise_, I'll grant, but mighty beautiful, nonetheless. So beautiful, both from the exterior and the interior, that I could literally say 'twould be fitting for the Blessed Mother to waltz around the corridors, rooms, and bridge like a carefree young girl; which of course she was, back in her day during her virgin birth, if you believe in that." He cleared his throat a little nervously before continuing in his slightly louder narrative tone.

"Most of the time, I got on with my duties as shipboard Chaplain; you know, saying Mass for some of the ship's personnel able and willing to attend, heard confessions, which to me was quite tedious but necessary occupation on my part as a priest for the salvation of the souls of the faithful, giving last rites to a handful of dying,…" At this point, he was remembering Rachel Cavanaugh; the Rachel whom he spent those last twelve to thirteen months with before she got killed on an away mission by the Cardassians. He managed to thrust himself back to the story at hand.

"So after a few months of uninterrupted, incident-free voyages in the 'verse, the time came for us to get steeped in a few interesting times that came our way. You see, the entire ship was busy exploring a seemingly uninhabited L-Class planet in the Virillian Sector, a mite close to the sector we're currently in right now, which is the Corellian sector. Accordingly, the captain was performing a deep scan of the entire world for possible life forms. Then all of a sudden a Borg vessel dropped out of transwarp, and it definitely didn't come all the way here to say 'hello'. Instead, the Borg said their usual greeting on the P.A. in unison about how they would add 'our biological and technological distinctiveness to their own'; lock, stock, and barrel; the whole nine yards; all that typical shit the Borg want. And they was all greedy for everything we humans were possessing in ourselves, as well as the ship itself. That's why they wanted us; our ship."

_

* * *

_

March 19,

_2369_

_2307 hours_

_Sector __1148__, the Virillian Sector_

_The _U. S. S. Cole _was orbiting an L-Class planet, specifically over a region near the planet's hemisphere that had light which took its source of light from a powerful star. All over the Main Bridge activity was bustling fairly well._

_A young lieutenant handed the captain a PADD relaying crucial information about the planet, as well as some notifications about visiting a foreign civilization after critiquing the planet itself._

_"Mr. Keyes," the captain called in his slightly obscure English that reflected his French tongue. "Are the sensors primed?"_

_"Yes, sir," the helmsman responded rather excitedly. "Ready for the next round of scanning."_

_"Initiate the deep scan."_

_"Aye, captain._

_The ship's captain was Immanuel St. Just (sant zhoost), a fairly bearded red-blooded Caucasian American with a French Jewish ancestry. His hair was brownish-auburn and slightly curly, and he had a rather geeky countenance in his face._

_Everything seemed to be going quite well for the remainder of the moment. So far, there were no unpleasant incidents happening, and Capt. St. Just, as well as the ship's crew, were enjoying the rest of the day, as if everything would be incident-free. The captain had just sent an away team of five personnel from the Science Division to investigate some fairly interesting areas of the planet that the sensors probably wouldn't pick up. Is decision to initiate a deep scan was mostly in part due to having a detailed geographical overlay of the planet's geographic and geological layout. St. Just was hoping that he would at least have some sort of reference map of the planet's layout in case he wanted to visit the planet again, and he wanted the away team to collect some fairly significant samples from the planet, both in terms of the atmosphere as well as the ground for research purposes while going on some sort of errand with another foreign alien race._

_But all that would change. For the worst._

_On the security console, the deeply colored tactical officer Madame Akeelah Justinian was already relaying information about a strange anomaly to St. Just as he reclined on the captain's chair and gulped down a navy blue mug of black coffee, which he would indulge in most of the time._

"_Sir, we're picking up some rather unusual activity in the Virillian sector," she relayed to the captain in her deep South accent. "It's…it's moving towards us at Warp 9.5."_

_Capt. St. Just took a deep breath. "Another one of these goddamn bogeys," he remarked glumly to himself. He had enough of bogey sighting that only turned up to be some friendly Federation or alien spacecraft. He keeled his head over to Madame Justinian. " Can you ID it?"_

_In prompt response Madame Justinian continued scanning diligently the tactical console._

"_Hard to fully identify, Cap'n, but the long-range sensors picjed up a deuterium signature. Scanners _also_ indicate…one hundred ninety-five life forms. All Borg."_

_This time a looming cloud of doom hung over the Main Bridge at the very word of "Borg". Madame Justinian was struggling internally over the feeling of shell shock and tried to keep his wits together. The crew listened on…scared shitless._

"_How long until?" he asked his tactical officer in a rather abrupt manner._

_Madame Justinian hesitated for a moment, as she was anxious, like the rest of the crew, including the captain himself. But she had to be honest; she had to stay cool; otherwise the captain would not be informed properly of the circumstances, and usually Capt. St. Just, just like almost any other Starfleet captain, acted on information, but right away. She had to give an honest assessment if there was any hope for the captain to make a decision that would at least save a majority of lives on board the _U. S. S. Cole_._

_She took a deep breath. "Two minutes, thirty-five seconds," she responded a mite nervously._

"_Get the away team off the planet," he ordered immediately. "Helm, get the ship ready for an emergency jump! Warp factor 9.9! Hope to God that we can beat the Borg before they can beat us!"_

"_The engines are ready for warp, captain, but our away team isn't!" the helmsman informed Capt. St. Just._

"_That, and we haven't plotted a course!" added the navigator._

"_Sector 1044! Plot a course there!" He turned his head over to the tactical officer. "Madame, is the away team on board?"_

_Madame Justinian accessed the shipboard comm., hoping desperately that she would be able to acquire a quick response from Transporter Room 2. "Chief, do we have our away team on board, over?"_

"_Affirmative, Madame. We've got all five of 'em, and they seem pretty disappointed over having to abort their survey, so they say. What's the big ruckus up there?"_

"_We got Borg!"_

"_Oh, crap."_

_Madame Justinian turned to relay the information to the captain. "Chief __Tarleton__ just confirmed it! We have our away team!"_

_Informed that the away team was indeed back on the _Cole_, Capt. St. Just immediately turned his hurried focus on getting the starship to escape from the clutches of the Borg. "Helm, punch it!"_

"_Already on it, captain!" the helmsman responded._

_Five seconds later a Borg cube immediately dropped out of warp. The hideous-looking, cold, mechanical alien cube floated several meters near the aft part of the _Cole_. From the behavior of it the Borg cube seemed to be on business of complete conquest of the ship. Without hesitation the Borg cube unleashed a slimy green tractor beam that encompassed the entire starship spanning from the dorsal to the ventral area._

"_Damn!" swore the helmsman._

"_What?" yelled the captain._

"_We're dead in the water?"_

"_Speak it in English, Keyes!"_

"_It means were stuck, cap'n!" Madame Justinian relayed back in a yell. "Whatever's got a grip on us ain't in the business of lettin' us go!"_

"_Aft view," demanded the captain. The view-screen immediately flicked from the bow view to the aft view, revealing what was to be the worst fear of the crew of the U_. S. S. Cole_. A single Borg cube. And it got a firm grip on the entire starship with their green tractor beam._

"_No shit, Captain," said the helmsman. "It's…definitely the Borg."_

"_That much is certain," the captain remarked wryly, but before he could remark any further, the Borg began their in-unison intro about assimilating all species._

"_We-are-the-Borg."_

_The crew throughout the starship listened on, scared shitless. Capt. St. Just opened a channel through all the public address systems on the starship, ready to give his word of moral or an evacuating order should the opportunity arise._

_Lower-your-shields-and-surrender-your-vessel. We-shall-add-your-biological-and-technological-distinctiveness-to-our-own. Your-culture-will-adapt-to-service-us. Resistance-is-futile…"_

"_Not on my watch!" yelled Capt. St. Just._

"_Cap'n, you scared 'em," said Madame Justinian. "I'd probably suggest a little more…subterfuge before…"_

"_No time for that," the captain interrupted her abruptly. "Madame, target their point of origin for their tractor beam."_

"_Onto it, cap'n." Madame Justinian located the beam's point of origin. "Found it."_

"_Fire. Double the ammo if necessary."_

_Madame Justinian pressed a single touch-button. Two proton torpedoes fired from the aft launcher. In seven seconds they impacted directly on the focal point of the Borg cube's tractor beam. The beam was deactivated and the ship was freed._

"_We have a direct hit," informed the tactical officer._

"_Good! Helmsman, punch the damn thing!"_

"_Already on it, sir."_

_But the Borg had already fired two gravimetric torpedoes. And they were heading straight for the top aft of the ship, where the warp drive was. The brunt of the impact was felt throughout the ship._

"_Captain, our warp drive is taken offline."_

"_Damn it!"_

_The ship felt another violent jolt. The Borg was emitting another green array which was draining the _Cole_'s shields._

"_Our shields are being drained," informed Madame Justinian. "Ninety percent, sixty percent, oh, God, that's too fast!"_

"_Computer, erect Level Ten force fields! Main Bridge!"_

_An ascending two-pitch beep was emitted in acknowledgement of the computer command._

"_That should probably hold them…for the moment," said the captain. His mind then became occupied for the most part on how to keep the ship in order, despite the frightening situation. He started yelling orders to the comm. and across the Main Bridge._

_The Borg cube slid all four quarters inside to reveal a portal. It fired a blue light, which turned out to be a pulse torpedo. The entity impacted directly on the Main Bridge. Electronics were fried, including the force fields._

_"Computer, emergency lights," ordered the captain. Emergency lights were immediately activated._

_Everybody on board waited for the worst to come. The _Cole_ was now vulnerable to a Borg takeover. Especially putting the _Cole_ in a worst situation was the fact that the Main Bridge was there for the taking, and Capt. St. Just knew full well that a takeover of the Bridge itself could allow the Borg could control the entire vessel. About the only thing he could do now would be to delay the Borg's journey of conquest, at least until a majority of his crew had evacuated the ship._

_"Computer, lock out all essential Bridge functions!" he demanded the computer. "Authorization: St. Just __Phi Omega Six!__"_

_The double beep was heard. "Command confirmed. All essential Bridge functions at full lockdown." Capt. St. Just readied his handheld Type 2 phaser, poised to draw and fire should a handful of Borg drones attempt a physical takeover of the ship. Madame Justinian grabbed a phaser from the starboard weapons compartment at the captain's behest, with some full effort at prying the wall panel, thanks to the electrical circuits going so screwed. The rest of the Bridge personnel stuck to their phaser weapons. They were going to make the Borg fight for every square inch of the Bridge, if they could._

_Then in a few seconds seven Borg drones beamed onto the Main Bridge._

_"We've got company!" yelled Madame Justinian. Without hesitation she fired a single powerful phaser beam at the first Borg at the front lines. The Borg drone spewed sparks and dropped dead._

_A violent skirmish was in session now. Bridge personnel took aim at whatever drone they cold focus their __harried__ attention at and started opening fire. One crewman used two phasers to take out a Borg drone._

_But the Borg could adapt. And they did it too soon. Their weapons would no longer be effective as they had been a few seconds ago._

* * *

"Well, the Borg ain't usually used to waiting on permission to assimilate their new guests, so they invaded our God-given privacy by beaming in soon after they drained every ounce of our ship's shields," the Chaplain continued narrating. "I seem to recall that during the assault, while I was discussing and probing through the odd problems of the relationship of a much-troubled couple in a Deck 12 guest quarters, the comm. was left on while the captain was busy yakety-yakking about this and that emergency regulation that we could literally hear all this horrible screamin' and yellin' like heck as though everyone on that goddamn bridge were literally eaten alive."

The five children became totally shell-shocked over what they were hearing. From how the Chaplain was describing it, it was almost enough to give them the impression that they were actually there. And because of the convincing way that the Chaplain told his story, any possibility of him lying through his teeth was subdued.

"He's…he's not lying, is he?" asked William. "It's almost too good to be true."

"William, the Reverend would never tell a lie," Elizabeth tried to assure little William. The Chaplain was no doubt tempted to add the words, "Yeah. Just like Washington.", but he thought that it would divert from the story, and second because the legend of George Washington and the Cherry Tree did not come about until _ after their time.

"So…why did these…'Borg', or whatever you call it, want to take over the ship?"

"'Twas in their nature," said the Chaplain.

"Bad them," said William.

"Well, yeah, but it's how they survive. It's…it's how they learn. Unpleasant is that fact, but that's how they go through life. They assimilate. Everything. Lock, stock, and barrel."

"What does 'assim-u-late' mean?" Nan asked curiously.

"It means…well, they take whatever you've got in yourself and they…integrate…I mean, join whatever you've got with their kind. They just take, actually. And all you get back is the experience of becoming a mindless drone."

"What's it like?" asked Ben.

"Well, I can't really tell you exactly; I wasn't assimilated. You might ask Capt. Picard, though; 'cause he's about the only person on this ship who has undergone this process and has actually _survived_. But…well, when a person's assimilated, a person is altered, both physically and psychologically. You no longer have free will, which is the first step in the assimilation process. Your body starts getting all sorts of machine parts that make you look more hideous. But the worst part is being an automaton."

The children couldn't imagine any horror than a loss of free will. To them, it was like losing your soul.

"Did any of the ship's crew get taken by those creatures?" asked Ben.

"Well, I can't really say exactly," said the Chaplain with great uncertainty. "I think most of us survived the takeover…I don't know about the officers. About the only thing that informed me about one of the crew personnel getting assimilated by the Borg was the captain, and I could tell just by the screamin'. From what I could recall, the captain's last words was, 'Get the hell off my ship, everyone, you…!', long before he got assimilated himself."

_

* * *

_

The captain's shouting words could be heard across the ship's public address system. "Get the hell off my ship, everyone, you…!" At the sound of those words screams of panic could be heard across the Main Bridge itself, much to Chaplain Garland's startled surprise, as well as to the startled surprise of other personnel in the same corridor hall where the Chaplain is in. He immediately heard that scream a few seconds after he peered a bit out of a guest quarters with a man and woman while he was discussing marital concepts with a much-troubled middle-aged couple. Both the husband and wife also peered out of the room as well, looking very much startled.

* * *

"Instinctively, I, along with everyone else, would have taken such a demand as an insult, but I think the Captain, as with a few other personnel, given the drastic, scary situation, believed that this was a command to evacuate the ship right now, this very minute. So after all that bloody, goddamn screamin'…"

_

* * *

_

The entire ship was on Red Alert. Bleeping klaxons resounded throughout every level, followed by wall-based panel strips of steadily blinking blood-red colors. Personnel were rushing this way and that way across the corridors. Civilians were being evacuated in such a hurried manner to the escape pods under the hasty supervision of the uniformed ship's personnel.

* * *

"…The lieutenant was orderin' everyone off the ship. I told the couple to scramble into whatever available lifeboat their was, while I supervised others to get into other lifeboats as well. Including, if I had a few God-given seconds on board this boat, to gather whatever possessions I could afford retrieve." He cleared his throat. "And all that while the Borg were firing torpedoes at us!"

_

* * *

_

From outside, the Borg sphere was pummeling the

U. S. S. Cole_ with gravimetric torpedoes. It was constant, and it was merciless; it was doubtful that the poor ship could withstand such constant hammering by the relentless Borg cube._

_Inside the vessel itself the evacuation was very hurried, hectic, and panicky in nature. Everyone was literally scrambling into their escape pods. Without a second thought Chaplain Garland raced to his office-room only to literally get knocked to the floor after a huge earthquake-like shake due to the severe impact of the torpedoes._

_He managed to arrive to his office-room with difficulty to retrieve a handful of his valuable and portable possessions: a personal computer, his picture of Jesus in a 2290s Starfleet uniform, a rosary, his complete breviary collection, his field-green Erin Go Bragh (Ireland Forever) Irish banner, his computer hacking equipment, and his personal First Aid medical kit. He hurriedly and carelessly stowed these possessions of his into his cylindrical black semi-aniline leather duffel bag. (The MedKit he decided to carry with him, as he strongly anticipated injuries among the crew members during an anticipated crash-landing of the pods, and he would want to be of some field medical help as he could.)_

_A second after he stowed his __Bible__ book in his duffel, another violent jolting of the ship was felt, and the lights in his room, including the corridors, dimmed completely, followed a second later by the red emergency lights. Chaplain Garland struggled to get up and tote his heavy duffel bag. Leaving the rest of his possessions behind the room in a disordered fashion, he hurries out of the room, making sure as many personnel could get on board the boats, and when there was room enough for him (which Chaplain Garland habitually attributes as "by the grace of God"), he jumps in, holding his duffel bag._

_Inside the escape pod was a Chinaman, a young Caucasian crewman, and the Chaplain himself. After hastily making sure that the boys were strapped in, the Chaplain hastily straps himself in. Seconds later the escape pod launches steadily from the saucer section. All shuttlecraft also evacuated the ship as well._

* * *

"We got off as fast as we could; surprisingly, the Borg didn't touch us one bit, 'cause from the window of our escape pod, we was seeing a plethora of photon torpedoes shooting out of the front belly of the ship, as well as phaser beams shooting out from the bow's edge of the saucer section, and they was nicking and damaging the Borg vessel like great heck."

_

* * *

_

The young crewman god scared shitless at seeing the

Cole_ being hit by the Borg gravimetric torpedoes. Scarlet-red phaser beams fired from the bow of the _Cole_'s_ _saucer section impacted squarely at the cube, including photon torpedoes launched from the front part of the stardrive section of the ship itself._

_"The Cole! She's bein' hit!" he cried out in a loud voice. Even the Chinaman, curious about what was going on, decided to take glimpse, too._

_Chaplain Garland strained pretty forcefully to get a glimpse of the scene the crewman was entitling himself to on a small portal window of the escape pod. Awed by the spectacular sight, he said forcefully in a low voice, "Sweet Jesus. I'll be damned." This sight was imprinted in Chaplain Garland, as would be for the young crewman and the Chinaman._

* * *

"Wicked," remarked Ben. The way the Chaplain conveyed his happenstances was too interesting for him to just simply pass up.

"Scary, even," added Elizabeth. "I couldn't imagine what it would be like to actually be on that ship while it's under attack." Elizabeth could remember the days when she was on the ship bound for the Colonies, and she was probably thanking God in her hear that she didn't have to experience the same ordeal the Chaplain experienced long past in the form of raids from pirate ships.

"I'd be scared," said Nan. Turning to William, who was sitting beside her to her left, she asked him, "Wouldn't you be scared, too?"

William, very much wide-eyed, nodded to his older sister in reply. Nan turned her little face back to the Chaplain.

"Weren't _you_ scared, Reverend?"

"A little," the Chaplain answered her simply. "But after I exerted every ounce of trust in the God that never failed me, I never became scared shitless of nothing."

"Isn't there something that you're scared of?"

"The only thing I'd be scared shitless about, li'l girl, is the fires o' hell an' damnation." The Chaplain sighed wearily. "Anyway, the _Cole_ was exploding."

"Oh, my God! Really?" asked Felicity right away.

"Yup. Really was. I think Captain St. Just programmed it to do that. St. Just's a smart man, I'll grant that. And a _very_ brave one, too, I'll add as well." A few seconds later after saying his word, the Chaplain breathed a rough exhale.

_

* * *

_

The

Cole_ started buckling. A cataclysmic explosion ruptured inside and literally ripped the vessel apart in the middle of the stardrive section and splits it in half. Chaplain Garland peered his face close to the window in almost scared awe at the explosion, wondering if this is all vengeance on the part of the Borg. The Borg usually assimilate species, so why would they be destroying the ship? Were they frustrated that they couldn't catch any victims? Or if there were any victims to be assimilated they wanted to deprive them of their survivable refuge?_

_The escape pods entered orbit of the L-Class planet. In one escape pod in the midst of the evacuating fleet, Chaplain Garland peered through the window again. One young crewman blubbered, "Will we make it? I don't wanna die out here." _

_The odds were that most of the fleet wouldn't make it to the planet, especially given the arctic weather even if any crew personnel survive a crash-landing. But a spirit of determination and a will to survive was needed. Chaplain slaps him on the back in a fatherly sort of way, saying in his gruffly forthright and frank manner, with a confidence aided by a faith in God, "We'll make it, son. God willing."_

* * *

"We could literally feel the vibrations of making our final ascent to the surface. And there was some fogging in our windows, which sort of indicated that we were now in the planet's arctic atmosphere. And there was cold sleet blowin' all over in a blizzard. But…at least it was daytime, 'cause we landed on an area of the planet's hemisphere where a star's light was shining."

_

* * *

_

Chaplain Garland looked out the portal window and spotted a rough, icy surface of the planet.

_"Hang on tight, boys!" he called._

_The escape pod continued careening through the atmosphere. Tension rose among the Chaplain and the two other men, wondering anxiously if they could make it to the surface…alive._

* * *

"And then we saw land."

_

* * *

_

The escape pods continued making their flaming course toward the surface of the L-Class planet. The cold fog set into the windows, as well as all around the descending, speeding pod. Sleet started wrapping around all over the pod itself, making it look as though the escape pods themselves were thoroughly frostbitten.

_The escape pods made crash-landings to the icy surface and were stranded in all directions, possibly for miles around. _

_The pod where the Chaplain was riding in crash-landed and plowed through the snowy surface, tumbling and rolling in a forward direction at high-speed. Inside, the Chaplain and the young men started to get dizzy and disoriented, and they could literally feel the impact all around the pod itself._

_Gradually, the plowing pod came to a screeching halt, thanks to the friction of the snow. The pod itself is scraped from the impact, with some of the Federation markings scraped off the paint, and the paint itself scratched. Snow and ice cover large areas of the pod. The Chaplain and the young men were in a rather uncomfortable position, despite being strapped in and securely buckled in their seats._

_"Whew! That was uncalled for!" remarked the young crewman. Chaplain Garland strained himself to open the escape pod's egress and took one exposed glance at his surroundings. The icy cold whipped into his face until he could physically stand it no more, and he immediately ducked himself steadily into the shelter of the escape pod and shut the egress door securely._

_"A lotta people are gonna get stranded 'round here," he informed. "Do you know who's in charge?"_

_The young crewman could only make a gesture of ignorance with his hands outstretched. The Chinaman shook his head. "I…I don't know, sir," he could only answer him in a faltering tone of voice._

_Chaplain Garland heaved a rough sigh in stressful exasperation over his personal failure of getting an answer from any of his compatriots. Then a seemingly practical thought suddenly emerged from his mind._

_"There be a radio?" he asked both men rather briskly. "I had one, but I never brought it. Was too bulky."_

_"Hadn't thought about that," said the Chinaman. After physically configuring the setup of the comm systems of the escape pod, the Chinaman managed to obtain some small measure of radio static. But the Chinaman still was not done._

* * *

"Instant communication technology was getting to be pretty frustrating, especially when it came to survival."

_

* * *

_

"You've got that damn radio fixed?" the Chaplain demanded.

_"I think so," replied the Chinamen._

_"So you've got something, at least."_

_"Yeah. Yeah; I've just opening a channel," he informed the Chaplain, looking at him. "The frequency's set, too. However, I reckon you'll have but a few seconds to transmit much of anything, sir."_

_"Better than nothing," said the Chaplain with a rather wry face. Perfection of the comm. system, as well as the ergonomics of its use, was far from their minds when it came to survival. "Thanks for the good work."_

_The Chinaman handed over a telephone piece hooked up to black-box-looking radio, which in turn was connected to the comm. panel on the escape pod, and the Chaplain took it a mite gingerly. When the Chinaman clicked the button on the, the prompt was given, and Chaplain Garland began delivering his message of hope in his attempt to make contact with the stranded crew._

_"This is Chaplain Francis O'Neill Garland speaking to all crew members of the U.S.S. Cole on all frequencies," he spoke through the mouthpiece loud and clear. "It seems we're…um…caught in a thick blizzard here. If any of you be stranded, please remain in your escape pods until the weather clears. Garland out."_

* * *

"I for one didn't think the melodious sound of my voice could be heard," said the Chaplain. "Much less transmitted.

"What…what do you mean?" asked Felicity.

"Oh." The concept of instant communication was new to the children, given that they were living in an era when instant communication did not exist back then.

"Did you manage to get a courier and send your message for miles around?" asked Ben. His question was spoken rather half-jokingly, because as was implied, the escape pods were stranded miles over the planet.

"You goddamn kiddin' me?" asked the Chaplain with a small laugh. "No one could survive on the surface, much less a courier. He'd have died before he could even send one goddamn message. Plus the escape pods themselves were scattered 'round the planet."

"Does that mean that they're scattered _all_ over?" asked Ben.

"Well…not exactly. From my recollection, the escape pods were scattered over a distance of an estimate of a ten-mile radius. Now, mind you, that info taken into pretty thorough came into existence only after I came on board the _Enterprise_; I managed to get some snippets of that info from the accounts of the other crew personnel from the _U. S. S. Cole_. That's…pretty far for trudging distance, but, thank God, not for thousands of miles."

_

* * *

_

Inside the escape pods, scattered for miles around, every crewmember listened to Chaplain Garland's brief message. They had the same fears of the unknown, themselves wondering if they can make it. Eyes were wide-eyed in anticipation of the worst yet to come.

_After delivering his message, the Chaplain relaxed for a brief moment and prepared himself for whatever is worst to come. It seemed now he had taken the role of shepherd to his flock both figuratively and literally. Figuratively in the sense that he would minister to their spiritual needs, and literally in the sense that he would assume his pastoral role as caretaker who would help them get through surviving the harsh elements of the L-Class planet._

* * *

"It took a mite of a while for the weather to clear up a bit, but when everything seemed fine, at least from my own point of view, we poked our heads out of our escape pod to get a lay of the land. Then it suddenly occurred to me to break radio contact."

"What's that mean?" asked Ben curiously.

"It means that I had to communicate with them by radio."

"Never heard of that before," Ben remarked suspiciously.

"How's that done?" asked Felicity. By the looks of their curious faces, the children had never heard of anything such as a radio. That technology was long into the future from when they came from.

The Chaplain sighed. "Basically radio technology works through electromagnetic waves. In our case, as well as in this current day and age you were shunted into, our radio technology is mostly subspace, which allow for all sorts of long-range communication on all frequencies.

"Our means of communication had to be fixed first by the Oriental fellow, who was good at that stuff. However, despite all that, we had difficulty trying to make contact with any of the stranded crew. Some were able to answer, some didn't."

"And what happened after that?" asked Ben.

"I be getting' to that! Anyway, it was daylight and blizzardly when the escape pods landed on the planet. We waited for the weather to clear up a bit, then go look for whatever survivors there were."

_

* * *

_

Not that Chaplain Garland ever bothered to mention in part because it would pose more questions irrelevant to his life story, but the source of the planet's daylight originated from a nearby sun. Chaplain Garland, the crewman, and the Chinaman bundled up with durable thermal winter clothes and strap on shaded visors that cut the glare of the daylight and set off to locate any stranded crew. Then they set off to look for the survivors, hoping they might be able to find a downed shuttlecraft that they could at least fix up and fly around to make their job a whole lot easier.

_"Life signs?" the Chaplain asked the Chinaman._

_The Chinaman immediately consulted his clicked-open tricorder, which was buzzing with feverish digital activity. "None that I can see," he answered. "If there's some, they must be some several hundred miles around."_

_"That bloody far?"_

_"Quite possibly."_

_"We're screwed, then!" wailed the young crewman._

_"Stow it, young man," the Chaplains scolded him. "You had your chance to be afraid when you were on the escape pod. Now I need you to have some guts, at least."_

_"Are you sure this is a good idea?" asked the crewman._

_"God forbid if it weren't, but staying around, waiting for some starship to find us in an isolated region ain't my way of living; possibly yours."_

_"We do at least know where our escape pod is. Right, Reverend?"_

_"Yeah. I left a tracking beacon at the escape pod shortly before we left. The frequency can be transmitted on the Chinaman's tricorder. But we ain't goin' back 'till we found some survivors, or at least something that can get the job done faster. All right?"_

* * *

"We just ascertained that possible nearly half the crew perished, but 'twas also possible that there were some that were unable or unwilling to answer to our radio calls, thus bringing doubts about the crew census. It's possible that a few of them crash-landed in some half-frozen lakes and drowned. But I took upon myself the charge to lead those folks, and I wasn't gonna let 'em down."

"Several hundred meters from where we crash landed, we managed to find a fairly intact shuttle. Intact by the looks of it, but we wanted to know whether it could still fly. When we got closer, it seemed to get stuck fast in the ground."

_

* * *

_

The trio managed to gain access to the plowed shuttlecraft. Everything was nearly destroyed. The windshield was cracked, the controls were fried, and the compartment was a ghastly mess. Even worse were the people who got killed during the crash-landing.

_"My God," uttered the young crewman._

_The Chinaman scanned the surroundings of the crashed shuttlecraft cautiously, analyzing a bit over the pilot's controls, which were covered by the dead female shuttlecraft pilot. He rested the pilot in a manner that looked as thought the pilot herself were taking a nap in the front driver's seat with the driver's seat reclined at forty-five degree angle._

_"Avionics failure," he noted to the Chaplain, who was relying on him for the technical details that could be comprehensively conveyed to him. "Stabilizers and inertial dampers completely screwed."_

_"That figures the body count," the crewman said to himself rather wryly._

_"Can you get that thing to fly again?" Chaplain Garland asked the Chinaman, possibly ignoring the crewman's pessimism._

_The Chinaman sighed. "I…I don't know," he told him in a manner that conveyed a lack of confidence. "I…I suppose I could, but…it's gonna take a hell of along while."_

_"Forget the goddamn NAV," said the Chaplain, wanting to speed things up a bit. "Just fix up the necessary systems to get this bird off the ground. If the NAV's out, we can scan the surface with our good ol' eyes."_

_But the Chinaman shook his head. No, he thought to himself, it wasn't going to do. "Without the NAV, we'll be flying blindly around the planet, which will lessen our chances of finding any stranded survivors, which…is what you want to do… sir."_

_The Chaplain sighed in response. "Just…just do something – _anything_ – that will get this craft up and running. We haven't got much time on our hands, as our survivors will be frozen in the fridge long before we can find 'em."_

_"I can't rush the job, sir," said the Chinaman. "One screw-up, and the entire console will become just trash. And the stranded crew will die, including us."_

_"All right. I was just being goddamn impetuous. Take your time, but don't dawdle. If you need some assembly work done, I can help a bit."_

_"Right away, sir. And thanks." The Chinaman got to work on fixing the helm controls. The Chaplain turned to the crewman._

_"You. I suppose you have some ideas regarding fixing up the shuttlecraft engines?"_

_"I think so, sir."_

_"Good," the Chaplain said briskly. "Let's get to work on that while our friend the Chinaman finds us the way to control this craft." There was no time to go over his mechanical credentials, at the present moment, if someone claimed he was good at fixing something, he was immediately taken by the Chaplain. Of course, the young crewman himself might screw up, but the Chaplain decided to leave everything to God at the moment because the only helpers that he had with him that were available were the Chinaman and the crewman himself. _

_Then the Chaplain and the young crewman stepped outside the interior of the shuttlecraft to get access to the exterior compartment housing the shuttlecraft engines._

* * *

"So…was the machine…or vehicle…as it's called…able to work?" asked Ben.

"Yeah," answered the Chaplain.

"That simple?"

"Not really. It took a long time for our crewman mechanic to figure out what went all screwy with the engines, and our Chinaman to figure out what went all screwy with the shuttlecraft controls. And to make things worse, we was freezing our innards out on account of some areas of the insulation being torn a bit off the craft itself.

_

* * *

_

"You've got the engines sorted out themselves, right?" asked the Chaplain.

_"I think so!" the crewman called back. The snowy blizzard was interfering with their verbal communication, so both the Chaplain and the crewman had to shout out loud to each other when they were outside the shelter of the shuttlecraft._

_"Come on!" called the Chaplain. "Let's see how our friend inside is doin'!"_

_Chaplain Garland and the crewman headed back to the shelter of the shuttlecraft._

_"How's things?" asked the Chaplain. By this question he meant how was fixing up the frustrating controls. The dead female pilot was laid to rest straightly on the floor near the pilot's seat._

_"Well, I've fixed them up fair," said the Chinaman. "Nothing perfect and all, but…the craft should be at least flyable."_

_"Goody. Let's get this bird off the ground. You know how to fly?"_

_"Not really."_

_"You?" he asked the crewman._

_The crewman shook his head. Even the Chaplain himself was unsure how to fly it. But if no one among the trio could, the Chaplain would at least have to give a try over piloting the shuttlecraft. _

_Spurred by this thought, the Chaplain then turned to the Chinaman._

_"Well, you tell me how the controls work, and I'll fly this bird without crashing it."_

_"That's what we're afraid of," said the crewman._

_"Well pray to God I don't crash it."_

_The crewman saluted rather sarcastically. "Yes, sir," he replied with an air of finality._

_The engines were primed. After Chaplain Garland seated himself in the pilot's seat, the engines were primed with a simple push of the touch-button which was pressed by the Chinaman, for fear that the Chaplain might press the wrong button. Then applying the thrusters with the hand-based lever, which the Chaplain slid upward with his right hand, the engines increased its powerful whir._

_"And the lift controls are here," the Chinaman informed the Chaplain up close and personally, pointing with his left hand to crudely-made lever that would elevate the shuttlecraft. Normally the controls for elevating and flying the shuttlecraft would be based on the touch-buttons, just like any other helm controls for the shuttlecraft, but since the controls were fried, the lever, which was messily connected to the circuits of the helm controls, would have to do for now._

_"Got it."_

_The Chaplain pulled the lever, and the shuttlecraft elevated lethargically. Slowly pushing the joystick in tension, Chaplain Garland made the shuttlecraft speed forward. The shuttlecraft finally flew, much to the relief of Chaplain Garland and the two other men._

* * *

"And…it was a miracle. We managed to fly the craft. Amazing, wasn't it."

Elizabeth nodded in assent, having the idea that such a feat was not even attempted in their time. For her and the rest of her friends, it was an amazing technological feat.

_

* * *

_

The shuttlecraft was flying low-level over the snowy ground. The young crewman was scanning the ground for downed escape pods and survivors with a pair of digital binoculars that he took from the escape pod he was in with the Chaplain and the Chinaman. The Chinaman seemed to have managed to get the NAV up, as well as the both the long range and the short range scanners, but given the present condition of the shuttlecraft, its reliability was somewhat doubtful. So the young crewman decided he could be of some small measure of assistance to Chaplain Garland if he could scan the surface with his eyes, even if it would make him a mite dizzy.

_Thanks to the shuttlecraft's speed, it was not long before they found a downed escape pod._

_"Sir, look! We've found one! An escape pod!" he cried._

_"Praise be to God," the Chaplain muttered to himself in great relief. "Where?" he asked the crewman._

_The crewman pointed to the window. The Chinaman peered through the binoculars the young crewman lent him. Sure enough, an escape pod was half-buried in the snow. It looked as though it plowed through the snow during its crash-landing, just like the escape pod that the Chaplain and the two men were in._

_"And I swear I saw someone waving his hands up."_

_The Chinaman turned to the Chaplain. "He's to our starboard!" he called out._

_"All right! I'm landing there."_

_Outside, a father and son, including two other girls, were waving back, desperately, at the shuttlecraft hovering over them at low-level. The shuttlecraft was preparing to land. _

* * *

"But that weren't all of 'em," said the Chaplain. There were many others; the father and three children were only the first of the survivor to be found by Chaplain Garland and his friends.

"Anyway, we managed to find whatever stranded crew there was 'cross the planet, we sought refuge inside a pretty shallow network of cavernous caves. The formations of the caves was such that 'twas more 'an enough to keep us real warm."

"Like this ship?" Ben asked the Chaplain incredulously in a rather skeptical manner of speaking.

"In a manner o' speaking," the Chaplain answered Ben.

"_That_ warm?" Felicity asked rather skeptically, too.

"Yeah; it was…pretty warm."

Felicity just looked at the Chaplain with a rather saucy smile in her pretty face; almost a smirk (actually). So did Elizabeth. And Ben. Only Nan and William looked at the others with a what's-going-on look in their curious faces. Did they all start having the idea that even caves were not as comfortably warm as on the _Enterprise_?

"Well, it _was_ a mite uncomfortable," the Chaplain answered the children in a pretty frank manner. "But 'tweren't just them caves. We was runnin' out o' rations, too. And on top of it all, faith in God."

_

* * *

_

For Chaplain Garland, reality was otherwise. Life in the caves was bleak. Food reserves had to be severely rationed to last longer, since rescue was pretty long in coming, and more often than not, hopeless. Replicator power had to be heavily regulated, too, to make it last.

_As several months passed, conditions worsened in the caves. All sorts of maladies occurred: homesickness, lethargy, and close starvation. There was no other edible life on the planet, so there were no animals to hunt. The entire community of survivors might have resorted to cannibalism if the Chaplain didn't find ways to keep them pacified for one more day._

"I even saw one man dyin' from lack o' food," said the Chaplain. "And I ain't exaggeratin'. Complaints about the food ain't bein' real was far from our minds; the more heavily replicator power got regulated, the closer people were to dyin' from starvation. God, we might have resorted to cannibalism if I didn't find ways to keep 'em pacified for just one more day."

* * *

"Why, did people start eating each other?" asked Ben.

"Ben!" exclaimed Elizabeth. "Of all people…!"

"I was just asking!" Ben exclaimed rather indignantly.

"Well… I saw some instances of 'em…one, as I recall, was done on a _live_ person…"

_

* * *

_

Chaplain Garland witnessed a brutal incident of one man trying to subdue his wife by any means necessary. The woman was struggling to defend herself, but the man managed to pin her completely to the icy floor, with a Type 2 phaser pointed at her chest. The man might have killed the woman had not the Chaplain got the man off.

* * *

"…And most of them were usually close encounters."

As seemingly mild as it would appear on a television show to the sadistic mind, the girls, including little William, still found the event conveyed to still be sickening to even imagine. Being a girl belonging to a family that sided with the Patriots, Felicity found herself pretty afraid of the redcoats subjecting her to such appalling treatment, as tragically would have been common back in her day. Elizabeth, too, was also afraid of undergoing the same treatment at the hands of radical Patriots with the intention of injuring Tory families.

"Those instances usually occurred out of extreme desperation," said the Chaplain. "When you're hungry, you'd do almost anything."

Chaplain Garland decided to give the story some pause before he resumed.

"But…as with all good things, bad things never lasted for long."

"You mean you and the others were rescued?" asked Elizabeth.

"My, my; how surprising you can almost guess the outcome," the Chaplain marveled at Elizabeth. "How did you achieve that?"

"Well,…" Even as pretty intelligent as others had remarked out of flattery about her, if not outgoing like her best friend Felicity, Elizabeth seemed to be a mite shy at giving an honest answer. However would she give it? That was the matter.

"Because…you said that bad things, as well as good things, don't last forever. If, as you said, bad things don't last, then you and the others _had_ to get rescued."

"But supposing that all the people under my care had died and I was the only survivor?"

"Because…that would still be a bad thing."

"Hmm…well, I guess the only _perfectly_ good thing to happen in the story would be for all of us survivors…and me…to survive and actually being picked up by another ship."

"Which one?" Felicity asked curiously.

"Well, the one you're on right now. The _U. S. S. Enterprise_."

"What?" asked Elizabeth.

"Truth as that," said the Chaplain.

"And…how did that happen?" asked Ben, curious about more detail.

"It seemed to come at the most dramatic moment of my life. I happened to see a shuttlecraft as I was looking out the lookout, scannin' the gray skies. It happened on one of those times when I would occasionally look out the sky…with a pair of binoculars, granted."

_

* * *

_

And Chaplain Garland witnessed something flying in the sky that he considered most wondrous and God-sent since a personal discovery of Christ. It was a Federation Delta Flyer craft. From peering through his [advanced] digital binoculars, he could make out the registration: NCC-1701-D, U.S.S. Enterprise. It was a Delta Flyer, all right, and best of all, it knew where to look. And it meant one thing: rescue at last.

_Bowing his half-bald head, he crossed and silently gave profound thanks to the God that did not abandon him and his flock in their time of desperate need._

* * *

"…And that's the end," the Chaplain concluded.

And it was. The children were still trying to comprehend the information conveyed by the Chaplain himself. Some of them were struggling to convey questions that they hoped would be answered, which was a mite difficult given the data dump brought upon their young minds.

But Ben had at least one to ask. Which, to the others, could almost seem to be a mite off-topic.

"What happened to the _Odyssey_?" he asked.

"Um…from what I've heard, it got destroyed by a Jem'Hadar suicide craft."

"What are the Jem'Hadar?" asked Nan curiously.

"Oh, they're humanoid creatures with gray ugly faces," the Chaplain replied, making a humorously dramatic emphasis on the last three words of his answer.

"Can you show me?"

Chaplain Garland fished out a small rectangular PADD that he kept with him all the time before he entered the guest quarters. Accessing the seemingly complex database, he managed to find two images of a hardened Jem'Hadar soldier. The first image was on the left hand side of the screen, and was shown in a manner that looked like a mug shot of a person. The second image beside the former was displaying the alien soldier's left side of his face.

Yes, the Jem'Hadar were really scary and downright ugly, even if they looked pretty humanoid in face, to a little girl from a time long past who had never seen, much less encountered, any other human being other than some of the pleasant faces that she would encounter in her hometown in Williamsburg. In reaction Nan bugged her eyes out in horror, her mouth shut completely.

Chaplain Garland let out a hearty chuckle over Nan's fearful reaction to the Jem'Hadar pictures. "Knew you'd be that scared shitless over 'em," he remarked.

"'Tis because we've never seen them before," Felicity put in.

"They're awful ugly," said William.

"I agree," Nan conceded.

"Wow," Ben marveled.

Elizabeth seemed to be about the only child to give the ugliness some thoughtful consideration. "They _are_ scary," she agreed. "But…"

Felicity faced Elizabeth right away. "But what, Elizabeth?" she asked her friend, with a descending inflection.

As the heart of this little group, Elizabeth was about to take on the role in conveying the heart of things. "Well…" she began, clearing her throat, "…Sometimes, when you see into the hearts of other people, ugliness will only cease to bother you very little."

"She's right," Chaplain Garland responded abruptly, as he slapped his PADD down the sofa. "You might grow up to be a little philosopher one day, Missy."

Elizabeth giggled to herself, feeling quite flattered. A quick glance at the wry face the Chaplain was making was almost enough to give her the impetus to compose herself.

"Can…Can I see the starship you were talking about not a minute ago? The _Cole_?"

The Chaplain accessed the PADD again and the PADD displayed the schematics of the Excelsior-class starship, with the title in all-caps block letters saying _U. S. S. COLE._

And Elizabeth got pretty awed as she beheld the image of the _Cole_, the fairly elegant-looking Excelsior class starship. "Aww…" she crooned. "'Tis a pity that ship had to be destroyed. 'Twas so beautiful."

* * *

Instant

_Portioned_ Chaplain Garland Plot Summary

For those of you readers who have a bit of difficulty getting the idea of how Chaplain Garland came on board the _Enterprise_, here's a brief summary that I had made for myself during the writing of this chapter:

After Chaplain Garland was ordained into the priesthood, his superior decided to station him as a chaplain on board the U.S.S. Cole, a refitted Excelsior Class starship with a variant hull configuration (c.f. ). When the ship was attacked by the Borg, the crew and civilians were forced to rush into the escape pods and set a course for a nearby uninhabitable L-class planet at the outskirts of the Viridian sector. The Cole crew was marooned on the planet for a few months until the U.S.S. Enterprise picked them up. However, only a certain portion of the crew survived; the rest succumbed to the elements. That's how Chaplain Garland came on board the Enterprise.

Much of the time, the ruggedness that I was trying to convey were from watching some of the Mad Max Road Warrior series, except in Chaplain Garland's place it was snowy rather than desert-y. Just a little memo mention about what I was thinking while writing this chapter.

And now for a handful of my special delivery of Author's Notes to you dedicated readers out there:

A/N (1): In Roman Catholic terminology, the term "crossed himself", as in "to cross oneself" means to make the Sign of the Cross. This brief little ritual is performed at the beginning and end of prayers.

A/N (2): What research was taken for the Franklin stove was from the official Wikipedia website. While a majority of academic University professors will no doubt have Doubting Thomas questions about the reliability of the website; worry not; I just surfed through the site to get a general understanding of the Franklin stove. The technical details of the stove would be too overwhelming for most young readers to comprehend (and would have been overwhelming for Felicity and her friends, too!), so what you see is some sort of a general understanding of the Franklin stove.

A/N (3): I was thinking about having the Mother of God visit a little child to convey this foretelling of the Third World War (just like she visited little children in places such as Lourdes, France, and Fatima, Portugal, and yes, Medjugore in Poland, if that's where it is), but I'll think about that some time later. For one thing, I think such an event would be beyond a child's understanding, and would just terrify her, and I thought the matter would be handled by a more mature person. I think…. But I'll rethink this matter some other time. But don't get me wrong on these apparitions, if these apparitions really took place in the history of our world, they sure as heck can take place…maybe a few years into the future…in this particular realm of sci-fi.

A/N (4): "Have faith!" the Chaplain called… - This was taken from the Serenity movie in a conversation between Capt. Malcolm Reynolds and Kaywinnit "Kaylee" Lee Frye.

A/N (5): Much of the description of the center hall in the St. George Soros underground seminary was derived from my description of the crypt level of the National Shrine in Washington D.C.

A/N (6): The evacuation of the _U.S.S. Cole_ was largely inspired by the beginning of the game _Halo: Combat Evolved_, where Master Chief tries to get off the _Pillar of Autumn_.

A/N (7): For readers who have difficulty appreciating the sublime beauty of Francis Garland's young wife, Rachel Cavanaugh, the physical descriptions, as well as the way the character acts, is based largely on the Laura character from _Perfume: The Story of a Murderer_. (Note: Rachel Cavanaugh is a little spunkier than the Laura character.) Laura is played by the young British actress Rachel Hurd-Wood. Her hair is originally blonde, but it is strongly suspected that during her role in the _Perfume_ movie, her hair was dyed in a reddish-auburn color, to give the character a both a passionate look and feeling. Warning to young men: Staring at images of the Laura character can get you so smitten with sexual passion, which can end up providing nearly unrealistic fantasy aspects of how women should be in your eyes, and it will deter you in appreciating young women about how they are, as opposed to how you want them to appear. Believe me; I've had that experience, so I kid you not.

A/N (6: The historical accuracy of the Maquis organization is to be disputed in this chapter. According to the Memory Alpha archives, the Maquis was not established until right after the Treaty of 2370 A.D., in which some Federation colonies were ceded to the Cardassian Union, and as a result, provoked resentment among some of the Federation citizens. Because much of Francis Garland's military career took place around the late part of the 2340s, which at that point the Federation-Cardassian wars were taking place around that period, the establishment of the Maquis organization may seem to come in conflict with the actual establishment date. I've decided therefore to have the Maquis trace its historical roots even further, without trying to render my whole story as taking place in an alternate universe. So one could say that the Maquis have started out as a renegade organization fighting alongside allies fighting against the Cardassians, because later throughout this chapter were featured other forces fighting alongside the Maquis unit that Francis was fighting alongside with, such as Andorians and Andorian cyberdogs. (Note that the weaponized cyberdog version was derived from _Transformers II_.)

Ladies and Gentlemen, I apologize very sincerely for this seemingly long delay with getting this chapter up on this Fan Fiction web site. The main thing is college level schoolwork. Not to mention household duties on the domestic level (since I'm the eldest in my family). (I hope I am not exaggerating the situation.)

However, the other thing which caused my delay was my really serious hangover with Philip Pullman's _His Dark Materials_ trilogy, which was got me really hooked over like a true alcoholic. Being some sort of Lyra/Will shipper, I became sort of inspired, not to mention being on some sort of craze to write down stuff for a possible _His Dark Materials_ fanfic called _HDM – Salvation_ that involved Lyra Belacqua/Silvertongue and Will Parry being reunited together again and restoring the Church (in Lyra's world). However, what I jotted down was just bits and pieces, and sorted into a plot outline. Much of the plot framework in the project is incomplete, and there's loads of technological and theological matters that need to be resolved that are beyond my intellectual abilities to resolve. It's very tempting to stop on this story and go on to that particular story project, but I'm not usually in the habit to leave things unfinished (at least that's how I see it).

The other aspect to the delay of this chapter was my personal struggle with what's in store for me in the future, since I seemed to have little to no confidence as to what kind of career goals I want to aspire to in life, since I've had loads of difficulty with coursework related to the technical field.

The fourth aspect of this delay had something to do with devising this chapter's plot from scratch, since the basic plot framework for this chapter was partially finished, and I had to devise the unresolved portions while working on this chapter itself.

By and large, this chapter might be considered the longest in Star Trek TNG Souvenirs, as it took up 51 pages, even on a Comic Sans MS font size of 12.

Anyway, Chaplain Garland's life story is finished. I decided to have Chaplain Garland's narration to be divided into three parts, so as to make the story-telling scene somewhat…appropriately theatrical, as I'm somewhat into the theatrics of format in my story, if you happen to get my meaning here. It's now time to move on to the rest of Felicity's story, which, hopefully, will get posted in maybe a few weeks, due to its basic plot framework being completed. I feel as though I've rushed this chapter, as my mind would occasionally go blank now and then during the writing process; I seem to be lacking details (probably deliberately) about some of the flashbacks featured in Chaplain Garland's storytelling. I also have some kind of a feeling that the dialogue seemed a bit too clunky, as well as a mite choppy. But despite that, I hope it was written pretty well.

July 17, 2361


	46. Chapter 46

_**Star Trek: The Next Generation – Souvenirs**_

**Written By:**_** Commander Cody CC-2224**_

CHAPTER 46

Ben and Felicity had just exited out of the guest room a relative few seconds ago, with the intent on heading over to the Ten-Forward lounge to let off steam. There seemed to be many things to discuss about as they strolled through the Deck 10 corridor; the issue lay in discussing all of whatever they wanted to talk about prior to heading completely into Ten-Forward. But these conversations were usually held in leisure, with the issue completely far from their minds.

"'Twas _very_ good storytelling, wasn't it," he commented to Felicity in a manner that acted as if it was expecting some answer for her comment that almost seemed like a question.

"Aye; I think so," Felicity replied rather smoothly, without losing her tinge of livelihood she was often associated with.

"Genuinely?" Ben pressed, hoping that at least Felicity was even a mite serious about her opinion about Chaplain Garland's life story.

"Stories about one's life have quite a lot of strange but interesting things behind the person telling it," said Felicity. "I think 'twas more than good."

"And to think…they all come from a person who made a lot of honest mistakes in his past life…and being a Reverend of sorts…wicked," Ben remarked to himself in a manner that conveyed his appreciation for the Chaplain's honesty. "I just don't think you can find any Reverend like that in our time."

"I guess not," Felicity had to agree. "Most folk would regard it as…"

"Scandalous?" Ben interrupted her right away.

Felicity nodded, not seeming to mind the interruption for some reason, even though she would oftentimes get miffed over being interrupted the way Ben did with her just a few seconds ago. Ben right away encompassed his left arm around Felicity and pulled her close. This startled Felicity by a tad, but she started giggling in a flirty manner. Then the two continued strolling on through the corridor.

"So the Reverend isn't staying for breakfast, isn't he," said Ben.

"Nay," said Felicity. "He said he has important duties to attend to."

"Like those of the ship's crew?"

"Some of them."

Some time for thought was there for Felicity as both she and Ben entered the Ten-Forward lounge. When the automatic sliding doors slid shut, their conversation resumed. And now that they were in Ten-Forward, their conversation would be about the breakfast meals.

"I anticipate that you're going to try something new," Felicity sort of suspected.

"I might," said Ben with a shrug of his shoulders.

"If you do, can you share it with us?" asked Felicity.

"Nope."

"If you die, can we have whatever new food you're having," Felicity persisted again, this time in a fit of humorous mischief.

"You _may_," said Ben suspiciously, glowering at Felicity a bit. Then he straightened his face. "You love me too much, Lissie; I don't think you'd want me to die just so that _you_ can have _my_ type of meal."

"Oh, Ben," giggled Felicity. "Really, I was just teasing." For some reason, Felicity just loved a good tease. Then again, maybe she was doing it just to overcome her fear of being scolded personally by Ben, since he was six years older than she was.

Ben proceeded to place a meal order for Barman Marles, who immediately approached him the moment he spotted him and Felicity. Barman Marles leaned forward over the middle of the bar counter, as he stood face to face with Ben. Ben was hoping that the barman himself wasn't looking for a confrontation with him.

"What'll it be, _strange_-rr?" the barman inquired to Ben in a bored voice.

Ben cleared his throat prior to answering the barman's request. "Some coffee, please," he requested. "The normal."

"Rigular, ain't't," muttered the barman. "Rigular coffee," he called out to his assistant Phyllis. "Norm'll; nuthin' add'd, nuthin' al-turrd!"

"Workin' on it, Marlie," Phyllis hooted back.

"Enythin' ailse?" Barman Marles pressed.

"Some hominy grits and two buttermilk biscuits, sir," he requested to the barman.

"More o' thaht art'ry-cloggin' stuff, aieh?"

"Sir?" Ben was confused. Felicity seemed pretty confused, too. Both of them were at odds to know what Barman Marles meant anyway. If they ever did hear that, it would have been unheard of in their time.

"Nae'er maiynd," said the barman, as he aptly listed the order on his PADD. By that point in time Phyllis already delivered personally the coffee to Ben in a navy-blue mug with the snow-white etched Starfleet insignia.

"Thanks," said Ben. With a nod of acknowledgment, Phyllis returned to her bar duties.

"Eny 'ticular staiyle ya wahnt it in?" he furthered.

"Let's see…" said Ben before pondering for a brief moment. "How about…preparing my requested meals the way it would be prepared back in my time?"

"_My_ meals?" hissed Felicity. "What about _us_?"

"I'm getting to it," hissed back Ben. He gulped down his half his coffee.

The barman didn't seem to hear both Ben and Felicity, as he was attempting to interpret what Ben had already said to him a few seconds ago. Sometimes his mind would blank out, and he would probably have to ask his customer again what he said, which he sort of suspected might anger the customer if the customer had to respond again. So he conveyed an interpretation he hoped that would be close to what Ben wanted.

"Suthern cookin', ain't it?" he said to Ben out loud. "All righty." His intent was to give Ben a little more time to make an objection before processing the breakfast meals on the replicator. No objection being made by Ben, the barman was on the verge of proceeding.

"Anythin' more ta add on th'list, maiy fraiynd?" pressed the barman.

"Um…yes," replied Ben.

As Ben was working to get the breakfast orders processed, Felicity took notice of someone who she remembered encountering in Dr. Crusher's biomedical lab. Focusing carefully whilst narrowing her eyes, she could see a more-than-grumpy crewman in a light-blue uniform stalking into the Ten-Forward lounge from the starboard entranceway.

And it was a pretty disturbing sight.

It was Lt. Harry Corbin.

Something about Lt. Corbin gave Felicity the shudders. Initially Felicity remembered him making fairly gruesome pranks to her and her siblings about being "sliced up" by an MRI scanning machine in the lab. Lt. Corbin was held in suspect by her because she thought that he was the one who placed the Playboy magazines in the drawer of the guest room for the younger children to get their heads in. And worse than that, it was Lt. Corbin who influenced Riker by use of an experimental mind control serum to throw her and her friends and siblings out of the _Enterprise_…into space. The misdemeanors that he tried to do to Felicity and her friends and siblings, ranging from mild to extraordinarily serious were enough to make Felicity herself want to keep loads of distance from him.

But Lt. Corbin was unavoidable. Felicity knew she had to act fast. Ben was with her. All she had to do was give him a nudge and she would point Corbin to Ben. And Ben would know what to do with this jerk.

But Corbin was a mite too quick. His bellowing startled Felicity because he shouted to her when she was not expecting it.

"Hey, you!" he bellowed in a heated effort to provoke Felicity. "You with the red hair from _hell_!"

Ben cautiously turned his head to face the man. Everyone else in the Ten-Forward lounge stopped whatever they were doing, whether it was dining or playing a recreational game, to take notice of what Corbin was doing to cause trouble. A Starfleet crewwoman stopped chewing on her replicated meat spaghetti to shift her eyes on Corbin. Two men, one who was a normal-looking human, and the other blue-faced, stopped at their chess game to get a glance on the pretty nasty troublemaker.

Even Barman Marles and Phyllis stopped their bar activities to witness the scene of Corbin at the lounge.

When Ben noticed the hostile look in Corbin's face, he glared back. Then he turned to face Felicity.

"He's just provoking you, Lissie," Ben said to her almost firmly. "Just ignore him."

"What if he starts doing something bad?" Felicity whispered back to him.

Ben had barely time to concoct a solution to the Corbin problem when Corbin himself continued his nasty verbal provocations against Felicity herself.

"What?" Corbin bellowed further. "You _scared_, bitch? You _deaf_ and _stupid_? Come on! I'm not waiting all day!"

Ben leaned closer to Felicity, with bated breath. He knew he was up to someone who could be a mite stronger than he was, and Felicity almost knew it. Ben knew that if he confronted Corbin directly, he could risk landing in the brig for stirring up trouble in the Ten-Forward lounge. But the risk of leaving Felicity unprotected was far greater because if he forsook her it would leave his mind very unsettled, for he would have to render an account to her friends if they knew what he did.

And Felicity was a friend to him (and their friendship was on the verge of being some sort of romantic relationship). He wasn't going to give her up to the likes of Corbin without a fight.

"I'll deal with him personally," he promised Felicity.

Felicity looked back at Ben with anxious concern for his safety as Ben turned to his left and walked up cautiously but defiantly to Lt. Corbin with a furious and somber look in his face. Lt. Corbin eyed him rather nastily.

"I asked for the redhead, not _you_," Corbin snarled at Ben.

If Ben could, he would negotiate with Corbin, but fighting back strategically was one of the tricks up the sleeves of his coat.

"You want her, you'll have to trample over me first," Ben said to him in almost cool calmness.

"It's none of your concern," Corbin verbalized smugly.

This act of smugness was enough to trigger Ben's instinctive retorting behavior that involved violently slamming his mug on the bar counter, which startled some of the crew present in the Ten-Forward lounge. "'Tis _my_ concern when the lady you are insulting resides in my heart!" he bellowed. Felicity shrank back, feeling a mite scared. Felicity no doubt expressed an inner sense of awe over Ben's gallantry, but if this was how he would behave in front of her in a confrontation, God help her. "_You're_ just an ill-bred _oaf_ who doesn't know any better! So…" he continued, toning down his voice a little, "Why don't we just ignore each other till we go away?"

Ben turned his back on Lt. Corbin when he made Ben face him again by swerving Ben's left shoulder counterclockwise.

"I won't_ rest_ until that _whore_ pays for what _she_ did to _me_!" Corbin shouted back nastily.

Barman Marles and Phyllis were watching the confrontation with a certain degree of trepidation. "Jesus H. Christ!" Phyllis whispered rather indignantly to the barman. "Of all the _names_ he has the guts to call a respectable woman…!"

"Hush, Phyllis!" Barman Marles whispered back to her, whilst signaling with his right hand for Phyllis to keep her mouth shut, for safety's sake. Event trying for him was trying to act not too scared to the point of cowering behind the bar counter, despite being a mite twitchy. He tried to act cool during the tension-filled confrontation.

Lt. Corbin was very intimidating. But Ben faced him again.

"You want to have your own private little war, _fine_," Ben snarled at him. "But if you want _her_, you'll have to overtake _me_."

Immediately Felicity grabbed Ben's right shoulder. "Please, Ben, no!" she yelped pleadingly. "Don't!"

"Can't run away from a fight, Lissie-girl," said Ben in tension. "Just stay behind me."

"That _slut_ was the very reason why my _ass_ was sitting in jail!" Corbin yelled infuriatingly.

Felicity glared at the lieutenant, her green eyes resembling those like an angry cat's. Ben took a defiant step even closer to Corbin, taking his ultimatum against him.

"If I _ever_ see you in this place again, Lt. Corbin, I swear to you, you _will_ regret it mightily," he said to him furiously in a low tone of voice.

"You don't own this bar, boy," laughed Corbin maniacally, "So you don't really have the authority to order me out of here."

"No, I don't," Ben agreed. "But pretty much all I have to do is whistle bird calls and the gendarmes will be on their way to send you back to the brig."

For Lt. Corbin, this defiant threat was too much for him. At once he brandished out a Type 2 phaser from his back and fired a stun beam directly at Ben's chest. Despite being nasty to Ben, he had to resort to the stun setting in order to avoid being implicated for manslaughter, which would have been a lot worse compared to just injuring his victims and still leaving them alive, if he could help it. Apparently Lt. Corbin was a pretty good marksman; he was able to deliver a beam at Ben's chest at close range without screwing up.

After the beam impacted on Ben he fell to the floor in an untidy heap, unconscious, his coat scattered. With no stronger boy at her side Felicity shrank back in fear, as the imposing figure of the young lieutenant frightening her. She couldn't help feeling frightened; but why was she? The crank that kept beating Penny her favorite mare, Mr. Nye, though initially intimidating to her, was the one she defied; and he was much older than Lt. Corbin. But Corbin's intentions were different; he wanted to make Felicity suffer greatly, and he was going to do it personally, no matter how.

This drawing of first blood was enough to alert Phyllis to danger, probably much more than Marles. "Marles, I have half a mind to call security to get this _jerk_ out of the lounge!" she whispered to Marles, feeling tense and anxious.

"Gud 'dea, Phyllis!" he whispered back. "Dun' le' 'im see ya!"

Phyllis got to work on alerting security without arousing Corbin's suspicions, as he has his eye on the bar at the moment. With almost extraordinary caution Phyllis backtracked to the middle of the back wall of the bar, where there was a touch-button panel for sending a security alert throughout the ship. The alert would notify the security station, and the security station would alert the nearest personnel able to respond to the emergency.

Phyllis immediately opened the panel and pressed the little touch-button hard. A security alert was sent throughout the ship. The alert was subtle, as it comprises of a silent alarm, so Corbin is not even aware that a security alert has been sent to Ten-Forward. After pressing the touch-button, Phyllis then ducked under the bar counter for cover at the first opportunity before Corbin could take notice of what she did.

Lt. Corbin, now pointing his Type 2 phaser at Felicity, was too busy with her to notice what Phyllis did. "Now that your…"_sweetheart_"…is out of the way," he sneered, "I'm now at liberty to do whatever I want with _you_."

But Felicity took a nervous but defiant step back, as if trying to maintain her distance from the young lieutenant, who seemed to be making advancements at her. "I'll not be your whore, if that's what you want, Lieutenant," she spat at him crossly. This was a battle for her dignity; she wasn't going to let it go without a fight, even if the odds were that she would lose it, given her relatively small size against the lieutenant.

Corbin threw the phaser on the floor on his right hand and swung a pretty hard punch at Felicity against her left side with that same hand. This first strike was enough to force Felicity stumbling and falling to the floor in a messy heap, with her face to the floor. Instinctively she felt her face; a less-than-slight bruise was on her left cheek.

Felicity slowly got up from the floor, faced her attacker, and cast a rather frightening glare at him, much like a wild bobcat would do to its attacker as part of self-defense. She then tried to punch him back, but her right arm is blocked, and Corbin managed to trip Felicity until she landed on the floor with a heavy thump.

Then as if throwing Felicity to the floor was hardly enough, Corbin picked her up in a manhandling manner and heaved her over the bar counter. Felicity landed on the floor with another hard crash, wincing over the pain he was causing.

Corbin activated his personal squad of five holographic LAPD SWAT police armed with Colt Automatic Rifles and Kimber M1911 sidearms of the early 21st century with the holographic safeties off to keep the Ten-Forward personnel at bay. Those living holograms stationed themselves in line at the front of the bar counter, aiming their rifles at the frightened crew. Then he scampered around back to the left edge of the counter and pressed his right foot on Felicity's chest. Lt. Corbin's reason for usingholograms of SWAT personnel was probably to portray American servicemen as bad guys, but the most likely reason was because of their tactical superiority.

Some of the Ten-Forward crew attempted to intervene on Felicity's behalf, but got seriously injured when the SWAT police start firing live 5.56 NATO rounds from their automatic rifles at them at full auto. Some of the crew received serious injuries as a result. Others instinctively took cover behind the tables, their heads cowered beneath so as to be avoided by the SWAT men.

With security being a mite delayed, and the SWAT team guarding his back, Corbin was pretty much free to do whatever he wanted with Felicity.

"Ya know," he began, as he struggled to pin her down with his right foot against Felicity's body, "Because of the situation _you_ put me in as a result of your _snitching_…about those _magazines_…

"It was _you_!" Felicity snarled, glaring back at him.

Corbin immediately released his left foot off Felicity and pinned her arms fast to the floor with his strong, weighted grips. "

"Now you've guessed it," said a panting Corbin in bated breath. "So…as a result of what you did for _me_, I think…I would be kind enough to return the favor. How 'bout if I confine you to my quarters and treat you as my own personal nubile little slave girl?"

Seething, Felicity strained and struggled as she could as her arms were held fast to the floor by Corbin's hands. "I'll do _no_ such thing!" she seethed.

"Yes, you _will_," said Corbin almost devilishly.

"It's what _you_ deserve for what _you_ did to _me_. And I will personally make sure you get what _you_ deserve…no matter what cost."

"_Never_!" Felicity forced herself to say almost weakly but defiantly. "I'll _never_ become your slave, Harry Corbin!"

The sounds of commotion gradually awoke Ben. But he wasn't entirely awake. When he focused his eyes, he gradually took notice of Lt. Corbin in crawling position, pinning Felicity down. His Lissie. He simply couldn't let him do this to her.

He looked around the room, uncertainty about what to do clouding his judgment. If there was only something he could do…anything…

Then he noticed a stray phaser. Probably Lt. Corbin's. But it was like thirteen feet away from where he was punched. And in his condition, would he be able to reach that weapon in time, and use it to save Felicity?

Lt. Corbin was still obsessed with the intent on making Felicity bend to his will. He would make her suffer.

"Fine," snarled Corbin rather smugly.

"I'll still confine you to my private quarters anyway; only this time…I'm gonna cut off all the beautiful red hair…'till you're bald as a cancer patient,…an' then ugly you up in _such_ a manner that no handsome young man will ever want you for his sweetheart…not even the Davidson boy."

Lt. Corbin really meant what he said. This was the way he was going to make Felicity suffer. Disfigure her in a horrendous manner, and he would set Felicity on a life of misery she could never imagine.

This dreadful thought was enough to make Felicity cry. And she was really crying. But this was not the only thing that was making her cry. In her life, this would be the very first attempt of taking advantage of a young lady ever done to her. And at first circumstance, it should be no surprise to her that she would burst into tears like a little girl.

Felicity's tearful sobs were starting to get out of control. Even her tearstained face never did one bit to move Lt. Corbin to pity. And she was more frightened than ever.

"You'd do no such thing!" she wailed, still crying, yet still defiant. "You wouldn't do this to me! Never!"

"Yes, I would, Merriman," said Corbin viciously.

Poor Felicity kept struggling, even to the point of violence, against Corbin, but he still had her body, and her arms, pinned down on the floor for good. But her fiery spirit wasn't.

"Let me _go_!" she screamed desperately, struggling violently. "Get your _filthy_ hands off me!"

Corbin still ignored Felicity's plea.

"Ya know, on second thought, I thought I should just savor the taste of your flesh before desecrating it with my little pocketknife."

Felicity continued struggling and sobbing as Lt. Corbin brandished out his Swiss army knife. The knife was still un-sprung when he held it near Felicity's throat.

"On second thought, I just think your flesh isn't worth the savoring. You just don't have the breasts to begin with. But the cutting isn't."

* * *

His eyes were bleary, and his vision blurred. Ben had already found himself awakening slowly from his phaser beam impact.

His ears could already pick up the din in his surroundings. The commotion; the sounds of sporadic gunfire, were echoing in his ears. It was like a soldier recovering from a huge knockout, and every sound was an echo to his ears, until he managed to get back into focus.

Dazed, Ben got up slowly. His eyes slowly caught sight of the stray phaser on the floor near the edge of the bar counter. Lt. Corbin seemed to be a mite careless with leaving his phaser stray on the hard floor before his little tussle with Felicity; it was within Ben's reach.

And as it were within his reach, Ben would make sure that it was in his hands instead of Corbin's...or someone else's. Crawling with his hands, he picked up the phaser.

With phaser in hand, Ben set out what he had first in his mind to do; knock out Corbin and save Felicity.

* * *

Lt. Corbin sprang out the blade from his Swiss army knife and started pointing its steel-tipped point at Felicity's neck.

"...So...I'm a-gonna start cuttin' on ya until ya start screamin'...like a hyena."

"NO! NO!" screamed Felicity. The knife blade was coming in, making very light contact over the surface of Felicity's skin on her chest. It looked as though Lt. Corbin had the intent of "branding" Felicity, just like men branded cattle, to show ownership of property. In Lt. Corbin's case, his purpose of branding Felicity was to show the world who was the owner of her. He wanted Felicity for his slave of pleasure, and he was only an inch close to getting what he wanted.

But he was only close, and yet so far.

FZEEEEW!

Because at that moment, a single phaser beam discharge made a direct hit on Lt. Corbin's back. The knife dropped from his right hand and rolled over Felicity's left side. Lt. Corbin toppled over Felicity's body in a heap, unconscious.

The holographic SWAT policemen fired at Ben, but he ducked into cover behind the bar counter. Some of the crew personnel armed with standard Type 2 phasers set their weapons on high setting and took out the SWAT police.

Felicity slowly looked to her left. Wiping her eyes she caught sight of Ben standing up, holding the phaser weapon in his right hand. Ben pushed the unconscious Lt. Corbin aside and lifted Felicity on her feet. Felicity leaned over Ben's right side, with her left arm holding Ben's shoulder. Felicity looks at Ben in tears. It was then that Felicity, safe in Ben's arms, burst into tears as she had never done before.

"Lissie…Lissie…you're going to be all right…" Ben panted.

Security personnel immediately made an emergency rush to the scene at the Ten-Forward bar counter. Felicity looked at Ben with tears in her eyes. Two of the yellow-uniformed crewmen rushed to both Ben and Felicity. Ben stroked Felicity's head as he struggled to get himself up, including her, too.

"It's all right…" he blurted immediately to the intervening personnel. He himself was struggling to answer, and struggling to keep Felicity with him. "It's all right. I'll help her myself."

Due to the trauma, Felicity was hiccupping and hyperventilating. "Oh…thank…thank you…Ben!" She tried to speak between her convulsive sobs. "Oh…Ben…"

"Lissie, listen." Felicity looked at him. "You're with me. You'll be all right." He embraced her tightly like a stuffed animal. "I'm sorry I wasn't there sooner."

And Felicity buried her face in Ben's chest, crying. Lifting his face, Ben said to himself, "'Tis nice to get a little appreciation for what I'm doing. At the very least…"

At the scene of the tussle, the security team leader stepped up. He surveyed the scene a bit and shook his head. "What happened here?"! he bellowed.

"Oh, just an honest brawl, between folk," blurted Ben. "Just caught this obnoxious lieutenant trying to take advantage of my sweetheart, so I…well…knocked him out by firing this weapon."

"You stunned him?" asked one of the crewwomen in the yellow-uniformed personnel responding to the scene of the tussle. The question was asked out of shocked sarcasm.

"Aye," replied Ben, shrugging his free left shoulder.

The team leader made a rather cursory glance over the slumped, unconscious body of Lt. Corbin. "Take this man to the brig at once," he ordered quickly.

"Yes, sir," replied one of the young male security personnel.

The security personnel attempted to lift the unconscious Corbin as Felicity and Ben trudged out of Ten-Forward with. Ben takes notice of a slight bruise on Felicity's left cheek.

"I think I'll have the good doctor take a look at that bruise you have on your left cheek," he said to Felicity.

Felicity only nodded her head, unwilling to say much of anything at the moment. Her nod conveyed that Ben should take Felicity to be checked by Dr. Crusher.

Both he and Felicity left Ten-Forward as they make their way to the Main Sickbay. Barman Marles and Phyllis get up from the floor, dazed by the incident.

* * *

Felicity was in the Main Sickbay, sniffling, sobbing, her eyes red from crying. Her clothes were pretty mussed up…slightly. They weren't torn, though, as Lt. Corbin was too busy trying to pin her down real good.

With professional adeptness at the task at hand Dr. Crusher utilized a small probing device to make Felicity's bruises heal very rapidly, which it did. About the only people present in the Main Sickbay, aside from Dr. Crusher and Felicity, were Ben, including Capt. Picard.

"First bar fight, huh?" she asked rather casually, speaking to no specific individual present to the room.

"Could say," said Ben, almost grimacing.

"Hell of a time," remarked Dr. Crusher rather understandingly. "Getting physically assaulted by a young man a few years older than you are…"

"Lt. Corbin, you mean," blurted Felicity.

"Yup. That's him. God, I hope he gets confined to the brig indefinitely for this."

"What'll become of him?" asked Ben.

"He might be court-martialed for the assault of a girl still in her preteens. If convicted, he could be sentenced to serve time in the Federation Penal Colony."

"Where's that?"

"Australia." Dr. Crusher had already finished the healing process with the bruises. Now it was time to briefly monitor Felicity's condition.

"You youngsters are gonna have to be a little more careful when you go to that place," she had to remind both Felicity and Ben.

"Careful helps," Ben quipped in a half-cynical manner.

Dr. Crusher continued scanning Felicity's head with her tricorder for a brief moment before snapping it shut.

"She should be all right," she said seriously and deliberately. Some bruises, which, hopefully are not to serious, thank God, which are healing pretty quick, since I used the blood coagulator."

It was at this moment that Capt. Picard received a message from the intercom. It was Lt. Commander Worf.

"Worf to Capt. Picard," Worf's voice blared on the intercom.

Picard instinctively tapped his combadge. "Go ahead," he ordered briskly, his mind still on Felicity's condition. If Picard had any hope of sending Felicity back to her own time if that was still his intent, he would have to make sure that Felicity, including her friends and siblings, would be intact as possible, to avoid altering the timeline by even a tad.

Worf began his personal announcement to the captain. "You're wanted in the ready room immediately," he informed him. "The Corellian captain demands to speak with you."

"On my way," Picard immediately responded without even a moment's hesitation.

Capt. Picard immediately left the sickbay, with both Felicity and Ben, including Dr. Crusher, casting their curious eyes on him.

* * *

A/N: The Federation Penal Colony in Australia was first featured in the first episode of the _Star Trek: Voyager_ series. (_STV: The Caretaker_)

* * *

Author's FYI (For Your Information) Session:

I almost had half a mind to make the scene of the confrontation between Felicity and the obnoxious-turned-nasty Lt. Corbin some kind of a not-so-serious stint where Felicity gets to survive and actually be a little bit humorous. However, after doing a bit of…research, such incidents, especially for girls at Felicity's age, are usually traumatizing, as what Felicity had to go through (or was about to go through) was close to what St. Maria Goretti had to go through with her attacker. Of course, the only difference is that Felicity had Ben to intervene; St. Maria Goretti had no one to intervene on her behalf to save her life. This is to let you know that incidents like that aren't usually taken casually, as is shown in the early initial draft that you'll read below. In fact, such incidents are usually considered so serious to the point that if a girl at Felicity's age were to be subject to such treatments as depicted with Lt. Corbin, she would really get traumatized, and she would cry uncontrollably, like a sissy.

But…since I didn't want such a seemingly engineered piece of script literature to end up in the Recycle Bin, I've decided to let you see it exhibited on this fan site. Notice how casually the incident was treated between Felicity and Ben:

Felicity slowly looks to her left. She catches sight of Ben standing up, holding a Type II Phaser weapon in his right hand.

**Ben: (almost teasingly) Well aren't you going to say 'Thank you' to your sweetheart, Lissie-girl?**

Security personnel immediately rush to the scene. Felicity makes a face at him.

**Ben: (immediately) It's all right. I'll help her up myself.**

Ben pushes the unconscious Lt. Corbin aside and gently helps Felicity on her feet. Felicity leans over Ben's right side, with her left arm holding Ben's shoulder. Felicity looks at Ben in admiration.

**Felicity: (beams) A true gentleman. Thank you so much, Ben.**

**Ben: Finally. 'Tis nice to get a little appreciation for what I'm doing. (Ben smiles) You're most welcome, Felicity Merriman.**

Security team leader (man): What happened here?

**Ben: Oh, just an honest brawl between folk. Just caught this obnoxious lieutenant trying to take advantage of my sweetheart, so I…well…knocked him out by firing this weapon.**

**Security personnel (woman): You stunned him?**

Ben: (shrugs his free left shoulder) Aye.

Security team leader looks over the unconscious body of Lt. Corbin.

**Security leader: Take this man to the brig at once.**

**Security personnel (man): Yes, sir.**

The security personnel attempt to lift the unconscious Corbin as Felicity and Ben trudge out of Ten-Forward. Ben takes notice of a slight bruise on Felicity's left cheek.

Ben: You want me to have the doctor look that bruise you have on your cheek?

**Felicity: If it'll keep your mind at ease, sure. Thank you ever so much, Ben.**

Both Ben and Felicity leave Ten-Forward as they make their way to the Main Sickbay.


	47. Chapter 47

_**Star Trek: The Next Generation – Souvenirs**_

**Written By:**_** Commander Cody CC-2224**_

CHAPTER 47

Capt. Picard entered his Ready Room. Strangely enough, and much to his annoyed surprise, he found Capt. Viss seated on his Ready Room desk chair.

Picard stopped himself in his tracks and faced Capt. Viss in the eye, as if he was trying to act cautious but firm around him.

"What the _hell_ are you doing in my Ready Room chair?" he declared furiously. It was usually a violation of the code of conduct for a visitor to just simply sit in the desk chair of a high-ranking officer. Picard, being somewhat of a stickler to the rules of the chain of command, especially when it came to foreign visitors, found this action of Capt. Viss to be gross misconduct unbecoming of an officer.

But Capt. Viss was too concerned with other matters to even worry about code of conduct. "Ah, Capt. Picard," he interrupted. He maintained his unnaturally calm, dreamy-sounding, raspy tone of voice. "I've been expecting you. We have _much_ to discuss."

"The hell we do," Picard declared in a manner that sounded like reprimand. "Who gave _you_ the right to just enter my Ready Room unauthorized and just simply plop on _my_ desk chair?"

"I can honestly assure you, Captain," replied Viss, "That it was _not_ without authorization. One of your ensigns on your Bridge told me I could enter your Ready Room and have a seat on your desk chair. It was only natural that I took him at his very word."

Picard made a face. "_Bates_," he mouthed off, after he mused suspiciously. "That _mis_chief-maker."

Capt. Viss simply heaved a heavy, bored sigh. He certainly would have to get his butt off Capt. Picard's Ready Room chair if he was ever going to get any discussions with Capt. Picard done. "I suspect very strongly that if we are to facilitate necessary discussions that greatly concern our very fates, it is only necessary…that I take leave of your beloved seat…and take mine on the client's chair," he tried to remind the captain." With that he slowly and dreamily heaved himself up from the captain's Ready Room chair and promptly took his seat in the client's chair, which at this point was situated at the back side of the desk itself, aligned at the middle of its side. Picard promptly took his seat on his Ready Room chair.

"_What_ is your purpose here?" Picard asked the Corellian captain simply in an almost curt tone of voice.

Capt. Viss cleared his throat before speaking his peace. "I have come to inform you that our current situation is getting far more complicated to make any plans to return the human specimens back to their time."

"Meaning?" Picard prompted Capt. Viss, curious to know more about what the Corellian captain himself had in mind at this very moment. If Capt. Viss hoped to gain some sort of assistance from Capt. Picard, he would have to inform him in a rather persuasive manner.

"Simply put…" put forth Capt. Viss, "…You…and I…will have to put away all flight plans regarding temporal fixes and focus our time and energy on making battle plans."

"Why?" Picard asked with his inflection down.

Capt. Viss leaned closer to Picard until his face almost touched his. "A Borg invasion…is imminent," he stated explicitly with a deliberate and raspy tone of voice.

Picard could not believe what he was hearing right now. "Explain," he ordered.

"Our nearest Science vessel, the _K'Vat_, had just detected three Borg cubes making an intercept course on our exact coordinates," Capt. Viss informed.

An atmosphere of quiet dread hung over the Ready Room. This was unprecedented. Three Borg cubes? Converging on the _Enterprise_? Where the five colonial children were stationed? What for? Were they valuable souvenirs of Earth's 18th century past to Capt. Picard (him, of all people) that the Borg thought they would be valuable to them, too? At Wolf 3-5-9, forty Federations starships had great difficulty fighting off even one Borg cube. How much more for the _Enterprise_ and the _K'Mar_, two ships that at present were floating alone in Corellian space?

"What do they want now?" asked Picard, heaving a heavy sigh so as to hide his nervousness.

"Oh, the very same thing they wanted during our initial encounter with the Borg last stardate 47978.6," Capt. Viss stated rather casually, as if he saw less value in the five colonial children. "Simply put, they want the humans. And unless you can call for help from your own people, you…and I…are going to have to fight them off almost singlehandedly."

"It took a toll of thirty-nine starships at Wolf 3-5-9 to engage _one_ Borg vessel!" Picard put in rather seriously in indignation. "What makes _you_ think we can even engage _three_?"

Once again Capt. Viss cleared his throat, and began his reply in a manner that almost sounded as if he was taking the matter so lightly. "I feel _supremely_ confident that we have the technology to…allay them for the time being…long before _we_ have to run before the Borg start pecking at us like…how do you put it…wild vultures…for assimilated information on our techno wonders," he intoned.

"You have brought this on your_self_, Captain!" exclaimed Picard. "And all of us! This is not _my_ problem, nor should it be!"

Capt Viss leaned closer to Picard, just like what Q would do when he wanted to get something through Picard's stubborn and over-authoritative head. "But _this_ is where you are _wrong_, Captain Picard," he said deliberately. "You yourself made a decision to pick up one of _our_ shuttlecraft, which so happened to pick up one of our shuttlecraft, which so happened to be carrying _our_ stray human specimens on board."

Capt. Viss was quite right. Undeniably, it was Picard's decision to pick up the five colonial children that brought the _K'Mar_ to the scene. And the last thing that Picard wanted on his hands was another encounter with the Borg.

But the Borg were different from the Corellians. The Borg, being such a relentless enemy to be reckoned with, would no doubt have the intention of exploiting the children for their own nefarious purposes of assimilating Earth and completely altering the timeline to culminate with _theirs_. Picard was already finding himself overwhelmed with the dilemma of sending the children back to their own time, and on top of that, he was already finding himself in the dilemma of defending the children from the clutches of the Borg. Maybe he could just simply jump into warp and seek refuge in some isolated region of space, but that would just simply expose the children to more future stuff. They were already close to absorbing new ways of life on board the _Enterprise_, and if Picard had any hope of returning the children to their own timeline without having serious repercussions on the current timeline, he would have to make sure that the children themselves were exposed to as little as possible to 23rd century stuff.

But then again, having five children being kidnapped by the Borg would be even worse, especially in Capt. Picard's mind, since he had the moral obligation within himself to keep the children safe. And at the same time, too, he had difficulty trusting the likes of Corellian senior officers like Capt. Viss…

"Don't blame yourself, Captain," said Viss. "You were merely exploited by the Borg against your will."

"I know I was," Picard agreed, though he himself was left wondering how on earth Capt. Viss knew about Picard's abduction by the Borg. "Why on earth do you have to make such a point about it?"

"Because…I believe that _you_…as a human man…always have difficulty getting over past experiences that most would regard as…utterly scandalous."

This assessment of Picard was enough for the captain of the _Enterprise_ to cast an intense glare directly at Capt. Viss himself.

"Not that it is your fault, of course," Viss added in a rather apologetic sort of way.

"Well, I'm certainly glad that at least someone has some shred of sympathy over my unintended aiding and abetting of the Federation's number one enemy," said Picard in a declaratory manner.

"Of course, Captain," Viss assented rather casually. "That is why I had in mind a _forming_…of some sort of temporary coalition with each other to keep the Borg at bay _just_ enough…to clean up the mess that the Corellians made. But of course, thinking we have the technology to do that, you humans would no doubt disagree on account of some…envious feelings regarding…us."

"I've got no grudge with you, Captain," said Picard. "But _this_ is _your_ problem, not mine."

"It wouldn't have been your problem if you just simply left alone one of our stray shuttlecraft," Viss quipped in a manner that sounded as if he wasn't serious about Picard's dilemma with the children.

"Are you implying that we should have abandoned our Federation principles just so that we could be spared the inconvenience of being branded with a problem that so happens to be ours just because _you_ say that it's ours?" Picard asked the Corellian captain, trying to control his anger.

"By all means, call is 'unscrupulous', Captain," said Viss coolly. "But at this point, I'm prepared to just simply take off into the unknown galaxy, and forget…all about the temporal mess."

"Then you end up being culpable by the Temporal Bureau of Investigation for unnecessary interference with the timeline!" Picard exclaimed. "And they will no doubt put a stop to your activities of flitting through space and time if they so choose!"

"We _can_ afford to ignore them, if we so choose," Capt. Viss declared raspily before making a pause. "Of course, that would mean war between us and your mighty Federation, and it so happens that we are a people who prefer to be left alone. _Laissez-faire_, so to speak." He leaned a little over to Capt. Picard once again. "So I'm willing to spare you several years of inconvenience that will stem from warfare with each other just so that you…and I…can have several years worth of moment's peace…in our affairs…by asking you…to form with us…a temporary…but mutual…coalition…in the noble effort of vanquishing the Borg."

Briefly did Picard ponder over this decision he was going to make with the Corellians. A sort of temporary alliance with the Corellians wouldn't be so bad, especially if it could keep the Borg at bay for just one more day until he could make a final decision as to what to do with the five colonial children. The good thing about this alliance, however, was that he did not have to worry over deleterious prices, just like he had to do when he had to form a cooperative interest for peace with the Cardassians after having to turn over Capt. Benjamin Maxwell to the Cardassians.

"It would be in both our interests if we worked together to defeat the Borg in their assault.

"_Defeat_ them, but not _destroy_ them?" Capt. Viss quipped in a form of a rhetorical remark. "You set the bar of ambition rather low, Captain, don't you think?"

"We only need to hold off the entire species from getting hold of our guests from time," said Picard. "Even with us together, we can't eradicate them from the entire galaxy, so we'll just keep them at bay. Right now, our objective…is to…_protect_…those children."

And leaning closer to Capt. Viss, Picard stressed in a low and serious tone of voice the implications of the five colonial children at the hands of the Borg.

"Our young guests…are liabilities, Captain," he stressed seriously to Capt. Viss. "They have information…from their own time…that can greatly aid the Borg in their assimilation of Earth. If the Borg manage to successfully assimilate them…and get their hands on such information…all of Earth is vulnerable to hideous cybernetic assimilation. People of the past will lack even the adequate technology to resist the Borg. And history…as we know it…will never be the one we know right now."

Then Picard backed away, setting distance between himself and Capt. Viss. He bowed his head meditatively, as he was about to take a course of action that could affect the _Enterprise_, and most likely Capt. Viss and the _K'Mar_. Hovering his right hand over the middle part of his length of the desk where the captain's Ready Room Chair usually stood, he was poised to press a single touch-button that he knew full well would open all comm. channels aboard the entire ship.

Slowly lowering hand, his index finger made contact with the little touch-button. All comm. channels were opened. And Capt. Picard would make his announcement.

"All senior officers…will report to the Observation Lounge at 1100 hours sharp," he announced in a loud tone of voice over the speaker. "No exceptions."

Relieved that Capt. Picard had without a doubt made the decision to join the _Enterprise_ in the fight against the imminent Borg onslaught, Capt. Viss stood up from his chair and made a bland smile across his alien face.

"I take it the discussion is over, so I…shall head back to my ship."

Capt. Picard returned the same bland smile. "Officer thinking, captain," he commented.

* * *

Conference Room, 1100 hours…

The conference was convened. Aside from Capt. Picard, Riker, Data, Dr. Crusher, La Forge, Counselor Troi, and Chaplain Garland were present at the conference table. Chaplain Garland had the idea of bringing the Felicity and her friends and siblings over to the conference, but Capt. Picard decided against it, remembering the incident during the last conference that involved the petty bickering between the children and the senior officers. Today's conference business was going to get pretty serious and Picard himself did not want that. Besides, some fair measure of confidential info on tactics were going to be conveyed during the conference, and though it was somewhat doubtful that the children would be able to comprehend the information, Picard thought it a mite risky for the children to be present at the conference because of concern about the confidential info being absorbed into their young minds, rendering the _Enterprise_ even more vulnerable to the Borg than they were already right now.

As Data blabbed on in explanation of a computerized graphics chart to the officers, Picard had his eyes on Chaplain Garland. If the Borg were going to board the _Enterprise_, the chaplain would act as a line of defense for the children, and he wanted the Chaplain to get at least some of the details on what was to come for the _Enterprise_ during the Borg assault.

"…The Corellian captain was correct in his assertion regarding the possibility of a Borg attack," Data finished, after explaining the evidence of Capt. Viss' assertion regarding some sort of simulation over how the Borg would most likely attack.

At the present, computer graphics were displaying a stellar cartography map, with a starry background, with the rest of the darkness being all black. The entire map reverted into its fancy 3-D form, with a Galaxy-class starship in the center of the screen, and three Borg cube vessels at the left-hand side of the screen. Three scarlet-red curvy lines generated from the spot where each of the three Borg vessels were on the screen streamed over to the Galaxy-class starship. Over each of the lines a digital display of numbers counting down steadily as they unfurled themselves over the scarlet-red lines to a right-hand direction.

"According to the charts, a complement of three Borg vessels is due to touch down at our current location in exactly forty-five minutes."

"That doesn't give us much time to fully prepare for a full-scale ship-to-ship boarding," Riker put in right away.

"Most likely not," agreed Capt. Picard. "The Borg will be gaining a firm foothold on our sector as we speak." Following this statement, Picard gave a steady exhale.

"Mr. Worf," said Picard, turning over to his lusty and trusty Klingon tactical officer, "Where exactly do we stand on the means of shipboard defense?"

"The _Enterprise_ still maintains its standard complement of 250 photon torpedoes, including its full-charge capacity on shipboard phaser banks," informed Worf fluently in a gruff tone of voice accustomed to the serious Klingon warrior. "If the Borg were to gain access to the ship itself, I can set all phaser firearms on rotating modulation."

"That will only keep the Borg at bay for a few minutes," said Picard.

"At present…these are our limits…Captain," Worf finished.

Capt. Picard then turned his face to the rest of his senior officers at the conference table. "You all know full well that the Borg will stop at nothing to seize our guests from time," he informed his officers, in the hopes of having them realize that the children were the very reason why the _Enterprise_ was forming its defense against the Borg onslaught.

"I am…aware of that, Captain," Worf told the captain in exasperation.

Picard then turned to his officers. "Any practical suggestions?" He asked.

Commander La Forge had his right hand up, with two of his middle fingers pointing high. Picard immediately spotted that and gave La Forge some leeway with stating his informative solution.

"Yes, Mr. La Forge?" Picard prompted.

La Forge cleared his throat. "We can…use the replicators to generate various firearms of different eras…"

"…Provided they are equipped with some kind of holo-emitter device," Data finished for La Forge.

"That's…wasn't that the same thing used for Lt. Corbin's holographic SWAT bodyguards?" asked Counselor Troi.

"That is correct, Counselor," said Data tonelessly but without lack of inflection.

"At present, most of the devices run on an hour's worth of lithium ion battery power," La Forge mentioned about the holo-emitter devices.

"So what are our means of charging those batteries should the Borg cut off most of the ship's primary power?" asked Riker.

"The emergency backup systems on board the _Enterprise_ can provide temporary electrical power to most of the ship's essential functions, including the replicator systems, should the captain consent," Data informed the first officer.

"That will go against standard procedures of gray mode," added Dr. Crusher. "Gray mode" was a type of condition on board a starship in which all power to non-essential systems, such as replicators were cut off in order to reserve power for the essential shipboard functions in order to allow for the extended duration of power reserves until a relief force arrived.

"Unusual steps will be of necessity, I'm afraid, Doctor," Picard had to remind Dr. Crusher.

"And if the Borg tap into the backup generator systems?" asked Riker.

Commander La Forge exhaled in sighing manner. "Then frankly, sir…this is going to be a hell of an interesting day," he finished.

"No doubt it will," said Riker wryly with a dry smile over his handsomely bearded face.

Capt. Picard decided to ponder over things briefly before making one final decision.

"I want our five guests confined to the Guest Quarters at all times," he spoke seriously. "No exceptions."

"You've got it, Captain," Riker responded promptly.

"Good." Then he turned to the other officers in his command staff. "In the meantime, have all hands armed. Geordi, initiate a force-field around the engineering section, in case of a possible disabling of the warp engines."

"Got it, Captain," responded La Forge.

In a fit of drama, Picard opened an internal channel across the ship. His voice echoed across every area of the ship.

"All hands…battle stations!"

* * *

And then the action begins…in the following chapters…


	48. Chapter 48

_**Star Trek: The Next Generation – Souvenirs**_

**Written By:**_** Commander Cody CC-2224**_

CHAPTER 48

The entire ship was on Red Alert. The rectangular panels across every corridor were steadily blinking scarlet-red lights. Crew personnel were totally involved in the spur of the moment, rushing back and forth, and setting up the necessary on-board defenses against the imminent Borg onslaught.

On Deck 4, crew personnel unlocked the weapons locker panel doors by inputting security codes. When the panels were opened they grabbed the stored phaser weapons and made sure the batteries were charged. A young crewman in yellow uniform briefly checked his Type 3 phaser weapon before proceeding out of the locker area. Another crewman inserted his Type 2 phaser in his holster before grabbing his Type 3.

In the Replimat, weapons from Earth's World War Two era, and various others were replicated, and holographic ammunition was being generated in the holodecks. Much of the weapons for mass use were restricted to World War Two era, since they were less sophisticated than the later ones and were a mite easier to operate than the sophisticated 21st century firearms; however, few exceptions were made because a handful of crew personnel disliked using "antiquated firearms". The old codger with the ZZ top beard was directing the flow of "manufactured" ammunition out of his replicator. Even in Ten-Forward the replicators were being used to manufacture ammunition, and that was especially true with the wall-based replicators in almost all the guest quarters, crew quarters, and officers' quarters. The small replicators could tolerate a variety of handgun "manufacturing". It was mostly Commander La Forge's suggestion for replicated live ammo because real live ammo was adaptable to the Borg drones.

On almost every corridor crew personnel in different Starfleet uniforms were setting up defenses across every area of the ship. At Deck 10, yellow-uniformed personnel were mounting a .30mm machine gun facing the front direction of the corridor leading to the direction of Ten-Forward. Corridor traffic throughout was congested with crew personnel carting ammo for machine guns, miniguns, and all sorts of conventional firearms across the halls on hovering cart transports.

In the midst of battle preparation, Lt. James Keswick was halfway through completing a rather exquisitely detailed portrait of a beautiful blonde-haired, blue-eyed, fair-skinned girl of eleven years of age. The portrait was definitely that of Elizabeth Cole, which Keswick seems to take a fancy to. A few seconds later, Lt. Bates passed Keswick by, toting a heavy box of replicated .30 mm ammunition for a replicated .30 cal. He makes a weird and wry face at him.

"Kessie-boy," Bates called Keswick rather disapprovingly.

Lt. Keswick became a mite startled. "Um…sorry…sir…" he stammered.

Giving his buddy another wry look, Lt. Bates strutted off toting the ammo box to the designated area across the corridor he was in.

The P.A. from the Main Bridge issues orders for the security personnel stations. It was a female human voice.

"Attention, all personnel. We are engaging the Borg. External and internal contact imminent."

Meanwhile, transport inhibitors were set up all over every area of the ship. Lt. Commander Worf was supervising a crewman and a crewwoman in the activation of a single transport inhibitor.

Throughout the entire vessel all activities were focused on preparing for the imminent Borg onslaught against the _U. S. S. Enterprise_.

* * *

In the Guest Quarters, Chaplain Garland cocked a couple of Colt M1911 handguns and set them on the desk. Felicity, Elizabeth, and Ben observe with wonder. Felicity, having took a pretty long while to recover from her encounter with the obnoxious Lt. Corbin, was busying herself with peeking out of the entranceway of the Guest Quarters, watching the crew personnel on Deck 10 setting up defenses against the Borg. After a brief moment she retreated to the Guest Quarters to check on her friends and siblings.

Felicity wasn't really freaking out. Outwardly she acted kind of calm. But deep down inside her, she felt very nervous, and this nervousness was gradually showing by the twitchity behavior she was exhibiting. Even for a girl who could pluck up the courage to stand up to injustice and brave (mild) dangers, in this universe she was vulnerable, as were the rest of her friends and kin. And she knew it.

Even Elizabeth was nervous, too. Anxious, even. Her avid blue eyes were filled with fear; fear of what was to come if the Borg drones came to the Guest quarters. Elizabeth had heard about the Borg from the Chaplain's life story, and from what she heard, they were an adversary that was unstoppable; far unstoppable and far ruthless than any human being armed with a Brown Bess that threatened to tar and feather her father simply because of his Loyalist leanings. The Borg were a species that conquered whole new races by assimilating them into their collective, and a newly assimilated human would lose his free will completely. Elizabeth was not the only one to fear this outcome, however, assimilation into a collective was not something to look forward to; it was like living death. And it was living death. Like any other individual who valued his life, Elizabeth surmised that living death was like living hell.

Of course, Nan and William had very limited understanding of the consequences of a complete Borg takeover of the _Enterprise_, and oftentimes, having lacking the awareness of the seriousness of a Borg takeover, they had considerably less fear about that. But if the older children had the creeps over the imminent invasion, they certainly did have some sort of apprehension equivalent to someone who feared the end of the world. To little Nan and William, this feeling was like something that would destroy their world. How was irrelevant, just by childish instinct they knew that an end was coming, and the probability was high that they themselves could face doom.

_I have to brave_, Felicity resolved in her mind. _I have to be brave, for all their sakes._ The children looked to Chaplain Garland for leadership. Nan and William looked to their eldest sister, and Elizabeth, too. She could not let them down. Not ever.

Little William, overwhelmed with curiosity about the modest firearm collection that laid out on the desk, slid off the king-sized bed and approached the desk itself. He was on the verge of handling one of those M1911 pistols when the Chaplain stopped him. Nan, peering up close, widened her eyes in wonder.

"No, boy; this ain't no toy you can play with like it's a stuffed animal," the Chaplain chided him. "This here thing is a killing machine. Can split your mind wide open if you ain't too careful; possibly your lungs."

"What do you mean?" asked William, feeling pretty disappointed that he didn't get to handle any of the pistols for as long as he liked.

"It means you're going to kill yourself…by accident, little William," said Elizabeth rather anxiously, with a mixture of chiding in her tone of voice. Elizabeth didn't take a liking to war that much, particularly fighting that involved the use of life-ending violence to solve a matter. However, this was a time of emergency; and fighting off the Borg was better than being assimilated without putting up resistance.

Ben in the meantime had taken out his Mylar bag with the Colt M1911 .45 pistol that he bought from the Replimat. Felicity examined the pistol with Ben.

"It seems that you'll find a use for this thing…soon," said Felicity in a matter-of-fact way.

"I reckon I will," said Ben. Because the pistol was unloaded, Ben could afford to have a bit of wacky fun with brandishing the firearm, and playing hero, saving his Lissie from wicked enemies by pointing his pistol at them and firing BAM! BAM! BAM!

Both Felicity and Ben were side by side with each other, observing the rest of the group silently preparing for the upcoming battle.

"I…I am afraid, Ben," she quivered. Her eyes were wide with fear, her stomach knotted, as she struggled to maintain her composure, trying to act brave and hide her fear, yet failing to do so.

And Ben could almost notice that Felicity, the headstrong of the Merriman girls, was really afraid. "What _are_ you afraid of, Lissie?" he asked understandingly.

"I am afraid…of what's to become of us," said Felicity anxiously. "Of _all_ of us."

"You mean…when those monsters take us all?"

"That's just it." Felicity turned her face, displaying her worried and sad countenance. "The Chaplain was right," she remarked, before turning her eyes to the rest of the group. "If you were taken by these…monsters, you would lose your freedom. You would lose…free will. You would lose everything you are."

It was very likely that Ben took such warnings about the Borg seriously, but to overcome his fear he tried to add some pinch of humor to the situation. He tried heaving a small but quiet laugh, even though he himself was anxious, too. Not just for himself but for Felicity, and the others, if his heart was set on them aside from Felicity herself.

"Lissie, you were never afraid of Mr. Nye when you tried to steal Penny from him," he said to her. "What's…making you fearful now?"

"Because this isn't an ordinary enemy, Ben," replied Felicity. "Look around you. Around this room. Everybody's fearful…I can see it in Elizabeth's eyes…even little Nan's…and little William's…even the Reverend, too…"

Felicity and Ben observed Elizabeth making a very sincere to comfort little Nan and William, who were very scared over what would happen to them if they were kidnapped by the Borg. It was like their worst nightmare is alive and their advent is imminent, which it is right now. Felicity witnessed Nan crying. William was petrified with fear.

"That much is certain," said Ben, after clearing his throat. "No doubt Elizabeth would…even your little brother and sister…I don't know about the Chaplain, though." His eyes turned to focus on Chaplain Garland, who was busy looking over a pristine, replicated Kalashnikov. "He seems very cool and calm, as if he knows what to do."

"On the outside, yes," said Felicity. "But on the inside…"

"He is afraid, too, just as we all are," Ben finished quietly for her.

Felicity breathed an anxious sigh. "I have to comfort Nan and William," she said to him. "I just can't have Elizabeth take all the burden." Leaving Ben to his ruminations, Felicity said to herself, "I'll have to comfort Elizabeth, too…"

Felicity quietly approached the scene. Like a little mother she wrapped her arms around Elizabeth. Nan and William allowed themselves to be enveloped by the warm embrace of their eldest sister. The moment was rather tear-jerking for the four of them; it was as if they were saying their last goodbye, not knowing if they would ever see each other again, and if they ever came back, they would never see them the same as they last saw them.

On witnessing this group hug, Ben allowed himself to be touched. But he wasn't touched completely, although that didn't mean he wasn't lacking in emotional touching. Ben was too busy doing his figures on preparing for the upcoming battle. He made sure that the pistol was tucked into his belt, just like what most men did with their flintlock pistols back in his day.

Ben's curiosity turned to the firearms collection that Chaplain Garland was examining, Ben loaded the weapon with a single handgun ammunition clip. Upon reaching the desk table, his caught sight of a polished Kalashnikov assault rifle of the 1947 variant. The AK-47 was actually replicated; the real ones were extraordinary rare, due to their status of being ancient weapons of Earth's Second World War. Felicity, being overtaken with fascination with this modern marvel, thought that the AK-47 was the greatest invention since the Franklin stove. Chaplain Garland, in trying to stir up some humor among the tension creeping across the Guest Quarters over the imminent Borg assault, jokingly referred the Kalashnikov as the greatest thing since sliced bread.

Ben caught hold of the assault rifle. It felt clean in his hand; polished, and ready for use. It was attractive to his eyes, and yet unattractive when it came to the reality of its actual function as a killing machine. He had never seen, much less toted, a weapon like that before.

The weapon was foreign to him. To end up just simply taking it, not knowing what to do with it, would be far more dangerous than using an old style weapon and actually knowing what to do with it. What was more, if he wasn't careful he could end up killing himself.

He put it back down on the desk. _I'll see if there's something that at least resembles…well, the firearm that I used in the holo-whatsit_, he thought to himself. He had in mind the Mauser rifle that he was using to take pot-shots at a King George portrait; what if he could find a weapon that had a similar function…and a similar feel?

He made a mental note of that inquiry as he slid back the cocking handle of the M1911, just like one of the Replimat dealers told him to do when readying the weapon to fire a single shot.

* * *

A/N (1): I was pretty inspired by the battle prep scene in _Star Trek: Nemesis_ when I wrote the script for this chapter.

A/N (2): The original first name for Lt. Keswick was "George". It's now changed to "James". I'll fix up that problem in the previous chapters mentioning the name of Lt. Keswick some other time.

A/N (3): "Mind wide open" was the motto from the Cisco Networking Academy. I decided to play with these words a bit in Chaplain Garland's bit of dialogue about handling firearms.

I wasn't sure whether there was more than enough detail convey a sense of hurried battle preparation, but you should probably get the idea. I also suspect that the narrative is somewhat…clunky. If you have any suggestions on sprucing up this chapter a bit, or any issues about it at all, especially the mentions of children handling real…I mean, replicated firearms of Earth's 20th and 21st century past, just send whatever's on your mind to my email. But be sure to look it up after signing into this Fan Fiction web site.

Yes, Elizabeth's view on fighting is somewhat mentioned in this chapter, and much of this mention stems from a message I sent to "pansyphoenix" about the matter:

"I would say Elizabeth is definitely old enough to know about war! I would believe she just hates killing in general, the using of life-ending violence to solve a matter when people are capable of rational thought and understanding. Her peaceful, serene nature suggests she's just non-violent...but Felicity is bound to rub off on her, so maybe she would become a LITTLE more pro-action!"

And now, let the action begin… (Which will come later in the next chapters…)

* * *

When I reviewed this chapter, I found that there was an element of fear and fearfulness lacking. That was I revised the chapter a bit. However, due to the time that I put into crafting the previous revision, I decided to showcase the previous narrative that had to be deleted for "realism" purposes:

* * *

"I reckon I will," said Ben. Because the pistol was unloaded, Ben could afford to have a bit of wacky fun with brandishing the firearm, and playing hero, saving his Lissie from wicked enemies by pointing his pistol at them and firing BAM! BAM! BAM! When Felicity's curiosity turned to the firearms collection that Chaplain Garland was examining, Ben loaded the weapon with a single handgun ammunition clip.

Upon reaching the desk table, Felicity's snappy green eyes caught sight of a polished Kalashnikov assault rifle of the 1947 variant. The AK-47 was actually replicated; the real ones were extraordinary rare, due to their status of being ancient weapons of Earth's Second World War. Felicity, being overtaken with fascination with this modern marvel, thought that the AK-47 was the greatest invention since the Franklin stove. Chaplain Garland, in trying to stir up some humor among the tension creeping across the Guest Quarters over the imminent Borg assault, jokingly referred the Kalashnikov as the greatest thing since sliced bread. In addition to that, he was conveying pretty subtle but mischievous hints to Felicity about seeing what it would look like, or be like, for Elizabeth, a proper young English lady, to tote a smoking assault rifle.

"But make sure it ain't loaded or she'll kill herself long 'fore she reaches her teens," warned the Chaplain. On second thought, Chaplain Garland motioned Felicity to bring the Kalashnikov to her, which she did. With great adeptness the Chaplain unlatched the magazine catch and removed the loaded assault rifle clip.

Now it was no longer a subtle hint anymore. By removing the loaded clip off the assault rifle, the Chaplain was implying, sort of, to Elizabeth, that it was pretty safe to handle the firearm.

And taking Chaplain Garland's "hint" rather literally, Felicity brought the Kalashnikov before Elizabeth.

"Elizabeth, how does this look with you carrying this thing?"

Elizabeth walked up to where Felicity was. She took the Kalashnikov and held it by the handle, holding it like some sort of showy child soldier.

"You look like some…Amazon," remarked the Chaplain.

"I am not!" retorted Elizabeth rather crossly. Almost rarely did she ever act cross toward someone; much of the time she acted sweet and serene with her friends. But the idea of her carrying a strange weapon and being dubbed an Amazon was not something she took kindly to because she was a lady, and the term Amazon denoted something boorish when it came to describing savage fighting women. She handed the Kalashnikov back to Felicity. "_You_ look like the Amazon."

"I guess I do," said Felicity. "But…this thing is too heavy."

"You'll get used to it sooner," said the Chaplain. "If you prefer, I can get you something that's a mite lighter. Like a Thompson submachine gun."

"What?" asked Felicity incredulously.


	49. Chapter 49

_**Star Trek: The Next Generation – Souvenirs**_

**Written By:**_** Commander Cody CC-2224**_

CHAPTER 49

_U.S.S. Enterprise (NCC-1701-D)_

Stardate 49968.2

Near the Boundaries of the Corellian Sector, Interior Region

April 18, 2370 A.D.

Day 8, 1145 hours

_Captain's log: Stardate 49968.2. The captain of the Corellian Battle Cruiser _K'Mar_ has just informed us of an imminent Borg onslaught. The _Enterprise_ is on red alert, and all personnel have been ordered set up shipboard defenses against enemy boarding._

_Our five honored guests from time are under the supervision of ship's chaplain, the Reverend Francis Garland, to whom I place these children under his care, apart from his clerical duties. I cannot consider anyone else for such a delicate task like this; the Chaplain has considered himself very trustworthy in this undertaking, and has even sworn that he would give his own life to protect them, if necessary._

_This battle will, I should very much think, change the course of Federation history. If this battle is lost, so is our history…and our very existence. It seems…that our lives…are in the hands of five little people who hold key information to their past…and I fear that if the Borg seize a relentless, firm foothold on of this information…they can assimilate Earth at a point in our history where technology is at its most primitive…and its most ancient. This we must prevent…at all costs._

Capt. Picard was busy conducting a corridor tour of inspection on Deck 10. On the way, he personally stopped by to give advice to a young dark-skinned crewman in red uniform. The crewman's responsibility in a position of leadership lay in strategically setting up the replicated 50 cal.

"Just don't get scared," said the captain genially. "But at the same time, don't get too cocky, either. All right?"

"The crewman nodded in assent. Then in the next few seconds the voice of the captain's tactical officer came over the comm.

"Bridge to Capt. Picard." It was Lt. Commander Worf.

"Go ahead, Mr. Worf," Picard answered promptly.

"Captain, you're wanted on the Bridge. Immediately."

Picard heaved a rather wry sigh. "I'm on my way," he answered right away. He headed across the Deck 10 corridor and stepped into the main turbolift leading up to the Main Bridge, with the automatic sliding doors closing right behind him.

Picard immediately stepped out of the Main Bridge turbolift. "Report," he ordered promptly.

"External sensors indicate that the Borg will arrive in this sector in approximately three minutes," informed Lt. Bates, who was at this point assigned to the helm.

"Which direction?" asked Picard with his inflection down.

"Our bow, Captain," Bates answered him promptly.

Picard then turned to his tactical officer. "Mr. Worf, have the torpedo bays on standby alert," he ordered. "Have six photon torpedoes armed and fitted with class-10 antimatter warheads. And prepare the MTL defense systems."

"Yes, sir," Worf responded upon immediately getting to his task.

Picard then turned to his helmsman. "Range?" he queried briskly.

"Only half a light year now," answered Bates. "Apparently they seemed to have upgraded their trans-warp capabilities." To himself he said half-humorously, "And the worst is yet to come."

In the next minute, Three Borg cube vessels dropped out of warp. They immediately parked right in front of the _Enterprise_ and the Corellian Battle Cruiser _K'Mar_, which at this point were parked alongside as well. From the looks of it, the Borg was prepared to invade both the _Enterprise_ and the _K'Mar_.

"Captain, the Borg have just dropped out of trans-warp," informed Helmsman Bates.

"It's just as I feared…" Picard remarked to himself quietly, knowing full well that the moment he had dreaded and looked forward to at the same time had come at last. But this was no time to fear. It was a time to act.

"Open all hailing frequencies," he ordered immediately, this time in a louder tone of voice.

Worf clicked a couple of touch-buttons on the tactical console. "Hailing frequencies open," he informed the captain.

Picard wasted no time thinking through his greeting-warning statement. "This is Capt. Jean-Luc Picard of the Federation starship _Enterprise_," he announced quite loudly in his fervent communication attempt with the relentless Borg collective. "I demand that you leave…"

But before Picard could even finish, the Borg in turn wasted no time in stating _their_ greeting and stating _their_ purpose of stepping into the Corellian sector as uninvited guests.

"We-are-the-Borg," they announced. Their voices were joined together in unison, like a congregation singing praises to God, except for the singing. Their tone was at a consistent low pitch that sounded like monotony. "Lower-your-shields-and-surrender-your-vessel-and-the-human-children. We-will-add-all-your-biological-and-technological-distinctiveness-to-our-own,-including-theirs. Your-culture-and-their-culture-will-adapt-to-service-us. Resistance-is-futile."

Across the entire vessel the unison voices of the Borg had the power to chill even the bravest of souls. Crew personnel of all ranks were on standby alert, and the blinking red panels strongly conveyed this seemingly disturbing sense of stomach-knotting tension. One young and nervous crewman had his hand gripped firmly on the firing handle of his .50 cal machine gun as he listed to the monotone but disturbing voices of the Borg. A middle-aged crewwoman in blue uniform stopped in her tracks near a group of yellow-uniformed personnel armed with a variety of replicated automatic rifles dating back to Earth's Second World War.

* * *

In the Guest Quarters Chaplain Garland and the five children under his charge were on standby alert. The Chaplain was holding an M1911, gripped in his tough hands, and at the same time, keeping an eye on his charges. Elizabeth was toting a Kalashnikov. Ben had his replicated antique M1911 loaded and Felicity was holding a Thompson SMG. As for little Nan and William, they were seated on the king-sized bed, with Nan besides William's left side. The unison voices of the Borg kept them still, petrified with fear.

* * *

On the Main Bridge Lt. Worf was immediately notified by beeping rhythm at four intervals emanating from the tactical console.

"Captain, the Borg are powering up their weapons array," he informed.

"So much for the hailing frequencies," put in Lt. Bates as an aside.

"Momentary distraction," Picard reminded him, as if he heard his helmsman. Capt. Picard was wondering why on earth the Borg were getting ready to fire on the _Enterprise_. That, to him, was pretty strange, since much of the time the objective of the Borg was to conquer through assimilation rather than go on a shooting spree.

"I thought the objective of the Borg was to assimilate, not destroy," Picard said to himself quietly, as if he was pretty confused. "Unless…"

The next set of news became very disturbing. "The Borg have just locked onto us!" cried Bates in a semi-panic.

Now was the time. "Mr. Worf, stand by all phaser banks and photon torpedoes on my mark." What the captain had in mind was a frontal phaser sweep against the Borg cube, as well as a complement of photon torpedoes launched against the same target.

Worf prepped the requested complement of firepower before looking back up. "Ready, Captain!" he finished.

"All hands brace for impact!" ordered Capt. Picard.

"Sir?" Worf asked gruffly, feeling a mite confused.

Picard cocked back his head at his tactical officer. "If they draw first blood, we fire back." He turned his head to his helmsman. "Mr. Bates, set the firing coordinates!"

"Done, captain!" Lt. Bates glanced at the timer. "Impact in five…four…three…two…one…!"

At what seemed to be a very prompt moment, gravimetric torpedoes fired from the lead Borg homed in and impacted the saucer section brutally. The torpedoes boasted ugly-looking spikes all around the surface that protruded like needles of a cactus plant. The torpedoes themselves had ugly-looking spikes. Right at the moment of impact the Borg torpedoes detonated. The advanced shield system of the _Enterprise_, however rendered these deadly weapons useless. Capt. Picard might as well be very fortunate in commanding a Galaxy class starship, and their five guests from time might as well breathe sighs of relief; if it was any other ship it would have been blown to pieces. But even Picard knew full well that the _Enterprise_ would not be able to withstand the Borg onslaught for very long.

"Shield status?" Picard broke in right away.

"Holding," Worf responded quickly. He cleared his throat. "The Borg have officially drawn first blood."

"Now's the time!" Picard broke in right away in a hurry. "Commence firing!"

"Let's give 'em hell!" Lt. Bates shouted a mite enthusiastically.

This was the time when the battle officially commenced…on Capt. Picard's mark. The _Enterprise_ unleashed a complement of frontal phaser sweeps and ultra-powerful photon torpedoes, which impacted against the middle of the lead Borg vessel. In prompt automatic response, with the awareness that the _Enterprise_ had fought back, the lead cube unleashed another deadly barrage of gravimetric torpedoes. On board the _Enterprise_ everyone felt another violent heave. Picard had to grip the arms of his captain's chair to prevent himself from tumbling over due to the violent earthquake-like shaking. Personnel had to hold onto their consoles or to some bolted metal railings to avoid keeling over and injuring themselves.

"Shields are holding," said Worf.

However, another barrage was fired at the _Enterprise_. Some of the gravimetric torpedoes had some capability to penetrate the _Enterprise_'s shield grid and cause some structural damage. At the aft end of the saucer section a single gravimetric torpedo made its chance impact into a crew quarters room. Two crewmen charred by the huge explosion were blown out into space.

"Shields at ninety percent," Worf informed.

The barrage of gravimetric torpedoes was overwhelming and almost unstoppable. Capt. Picard was forced to resort to defensive measures for the _Enterprise_.

"Prepare multiple phaser sweep!" Picard ordered. "Engage the MTL system!" MTL was the acronym for Multiple Target Lock-on. The MTL system was the newest feature of shipboard defensive measures against incoming projectiles, and the _Enterprise_ was the first to have this feature installed into its tactical computer. The system would utilize a starship's phaser array to automatically target incoming warheads and stray asteroids in case a starship headed into an asteroid field, thus speeding up response time for coordinating phaser fire. The system itself had drawn similarities in function from the Phalanx CIWS guns on board most of the ancient aircraft carriers of the late 20th century, wherein their onboard miniguns would target and fire at incoming air-to-surface missiles fired from fighter aircraft. This time, however, it would be phasers that would do the firing. MTL was initially tested on stray barrels floating in space and eventually on functional torpedoes with inert warheads. This would be the first time that MTL would be used in battle against a fearsome adversary.

So without delay, Worf switched to an interactive LCD touch-screen that displayed red targets indicating incoming projectiles fired at the _Enterprise_. Sliding his rough Klingon hand over the red-dotted targets, he selected the dots for the MTL defense systems.

"Torps locked on!" shouted Worf.

"Fire!"

The _Enterprise_'s phaser banks fired multiple scarlet-colored energy beams in different directions, which targeted the incoming gravimetric torpedoes fired from the lead Borg vessel. The torpedoes exploded after the powerful phaser beams made their impact on them. It was almost awe-generating to see how the beams' faerie touches nicked incoming warheads in time, much of the time without a single miss.

"Phaser banks at ninety-four percent," said Worf.

"Evasive maneuvers!" Picard demanded. "Pattern Alpha!"

The _Enterprise_ made a hulking lurch to its port direction, away from the lead Borg cube's path.

* * *

The main bridge of the Corellian Battle Cruiser _K'Mar_ was on "Blue Alert", which was the Corellian vernacular for the Federation's "Red Alert" system. Klaxons emanating the sound of "oo-wa-a-ang, oo-wa-a-ang" resounded throughout every corridor and every room of the space vessel. All personnel on board the _K'Mar_ were on standby for possible boarding of Borg drones.

A series of rather intensive beeping sounds were emanating from the tactical console operated by Corellian officer Lt. Commander Kese, the senior officer closest to the captain on board the _K/Mar_. Officer Kese was a pretty middle-aged humanoid alien, by human standards, though his voices sounded much like a young human in his twenties. Though Kese was operating the tactical console, he wasn't known as the _K'Mar_'s tactical officer; the ship's tactical officer contracted some sort of ailment known in the Corellian homeworld, and Kese, being somewhat of a competent officer, tactics wise in the Corellian art of defense, was on the main bridge to fill in for the officer. When it came to conveying crucial information to the captain, Kese was pretty good at that.

"Captain, the _Enterprise_ has been fired on!" Kese informed the Corellian captain in his native tongue.

"Deploy the weapon," Capt. Viss demanded simply.

Kese kept pressing touch-buttons on his tactical console to ascertain the status of the Corellian weapons array.

"The turbolasers will take approximately ten minutes to go online," said Kese. "We'd be fried long before the main arsenal will take effect.

"Have all fighters man their craft and engage the enemy!" commanded Viss. "Keep them distracted until we can get the _K'Mar_'s main weapons system online!"

Inside the hangar bay of the _K'Mar_, Corellian fighter pilots were scrambling to their craft in haste. The _K'Mar_ was equipped with a complement of seventeen prototypes of the Scorpion Class attack flyers. Those sleek fighter craft were painted black and gleamed in the fluorescent light. The craft was designed in a manner where the cockpit was in the front of the "wingless" fuselage, and its canopy was opened and closed in the same manner as that of an ancient fighter aircraft of the late 20th century.

The PA in the hangar bay resounded with a deep, resonated male voice. "All space pilots, man your flyers. Repeat. Man your flyers."

When a majority of the pilots were strapped in their craft the fighters were launched pronto. The launch was coordinated by a lone deck officer waving azure-blue glow sticks, coordinating the craft this way and that. Of the seventeen craft launched, five remained behind as a reserve force. Leaving reserve forces was somewhat of a wise tactical move for most of the Corellian cruiser captains, and in fact was more often than not considered standard procedure in almost every space battle for defensive measures, as the Corellians were primarily a defensive species, and if were engaged in a fight, would fight back for defensive purposes.

The Scorpion fighters homed in on the Borg cube. Some of the fighters, however, were targeted by the cubes a little too easily. One craft was tractor-beamed, and the fighter pilot was forced to self-destruct his craft to prevent capture of himself, as well as the Corellian technology which built the craft, in order to prevent both the pilot and the technology from falling into the hands of the Borg collective.

* * *

Interior of Borg Cube #1, Lead Cube…

The Borg queen beheld calmly the view-screen showing the two opposing forces collaborating in the fight against the powerful Borg collective. Her slightly forced smile betrayed a subtle hint of cunning. If one could ever peer very closely at the Borg Queen's face, a countenance of cunning could be beheld.

As with every Borg, her surroundings were green. And black. This eerie combination of this blend and mish-mosh of colors emanated a chilling and efficient effect. And it was also hot. Standard Borg temperature was 39 degrees Centigrade; far beyond normal room temperature for the average human being to cope with. Residues of white light reflected the green and black panels, and lime green light shown across the bridge of the Borg vessel, which in actuality served as the Queen's inner sanctum.

The Queen gazed longingly at the view-screen, almost in a creepily fawning sort of way, and longingly at the _Enterprise_. "She knew it was there for the taking, if only its captain would not be so stubborn.

But the _Enterprise_ would not let itself be given to the grasping hands of the Borg.

The Borg informed their queen on the updates of the current battle in collective unison. "_U.S.S.-Enterprise_-commencing-evasive-maneuvers. Attempt-to-disable-_Enterprise_-engines."

The Borg Queen's response was curt, in a professional manner, both cold and efficient. "Do it."

Three gravimetric torpedoes launched out of the middle of the Borg cube. Homing in with precision they successfully hit an area between the _Enterprise_'s warp nacelles.

* * *

Electronic beeping sounds emanated across the Main Bridge of the _Enterprise_. In the Engineering Room, Commander La Forge was making haste in containing the explosive situation of the warp core.

A blue-uniformed techie hastened to the comm. panel in the Engineering Room. "Captain, our warp drive has been completely compromised!" he shouted.

"No doubt," said Riker in a rather wry manner.

"Incoming!" screamed Lt. bates.

An overwhelming barrage of torpedoes pummeled the _Enterprise_. Lt. Commander Data was fingering his monitor on the starboard area of the Main Bridge. The plasma screens were lighting up like crazy all over the Master Systems Display, indicating which areas of the entire space vessel was taking in the most damage.

"We are currently losing structural integrity on Decks 3 and 4, Sections 6 through 10."

A dark-skinned crewman in red uniform manning his assigned station monitor, right near Data's left side, turned his head hastily to the captain. "Emergency force fields in place and reinforced," he added.

"Good work, Crewman Strickland!" Picard called back to the crewman. He switched back to the view-screen in a hasty manner. "Lock onto those torps and destroy 'em!"

"Already on it!" responded Worf.

His Klingon heart pounding due to every ounce of tension, and in a frantic but expert hurry, Worf slid his hand across the LCD interactive console and locked onto the incoming torpedoes before engaging the MTL defensive systems. The _Enterprise_'s phasers managed to nick a majority of the torpedoes like flies. Some of the torpedoes, however, kept hitting the vessel, causing a fair amount of damage to the _Enterprise_ itself.

"Phasers at seventy-four percent!" Worf informed.

"Where the hell is that _damn_ _back_up?" Picard bellowed.

"Three minutes and twenty-seven seconds!" Navigator Keswick called out.

"We'll have to hold them off as best we can!"

The lead Borg vessel then fired off a half-transparent energy beam directly at the _Enterprise_'s saucer section dorsal anterior. This made the shield grid fluctuate and decrease in shield strength. On one of the system displays at the area of the Main Bridge, the shield indicator outlines started generating an alarming blinking red.

"Shields collapsing!" cried a beach-blonde, gray-eyed, fair-skinned crewwoman in yellow uniform. She immediately flounced her head to Picard. "Captain, I don't think the _Enterprise_ can take anymore of this!"

Picard acknowledged this alert silently and kept focusing on fighting the Borg cube. "Fire photon torpedoes and divert the phaser arrays directly at the beam's point of origin emanating from the last Borg cube!" he ordered.

"Got it, sir!" responded Worf right away.

The _Enterprise_ fired three torpedoes which impacted on the firing area of the beam on the forefront Borg cube.

"Divert auxiliary power to the forward shield and compensate!" ordered Picard.

"Captain," a crewman in red uniform tried to alert the captain, "That'll leave the aft areas of the ship vulnerable to weapons fire!"

"It seems we have no choice!" put in Riker. "What are the stats of the emergency force field?"

"Holding, sir," responded the same crewman.

"Evacuate Decks 11 and 12, Sections 6 through 7, and reroute field power to the forward shields," ordered Commander Riker.

The red-uniformed crewman manipulated the touch-buttons on his station, and his station monitor seemed to be displaying some satisfactory results. But it was doubtful whether the results would be really that satisfactory. "I can't guarantee this thing will hold for long," he said.

"Well, hopefully it'll hold just enough for our reinforcements to arrive," said Riker, trying to bolster a bit of hope for not only the crewman but the other personnel as well. He then turned to the helmsman. "What's our ETA of our fleet?"

"Only seconds to go, sir!" responded Bates.

"Well! That's mighty good news!" Riker exclaimed rather excitedly, while at the same time keeping all manner of fair steadiness within himself.

* * *

Starship Battle Group Alpha came to the rescue to reinforce the _Enterprise_ and the _K'Mar_. There were twenty starships that dropped out of warp and into the space battlefield.

The flagship _U.S.S. Repulse_ was in the lead. Fleet Admiral Hayes ordered Capt. Taggert to magnify the view-screen.

"Magnify," he ordered abruptly.

Sure enough, the _Enterprise_ and the _K'Mar_ were overwhelmed by not just one but three powerful Borg cubes. By the sheer looks of it Admiral Hayes knew that the time to act in the fleets role as a reinforcing and intervention fleet had come at last.

Admiral Hayes clasped his hands behind his back and straightened his back. "All ships report in," he ordered immediately. He kept himself erect, whilst awaiting the verbal responses of the starship captains that were geared up to engage the Borg.

Of the twenty starships in Battle Group Alpha, seven reported in for offensive duty.

"Capt. Price, _U.S.S. Exeter_, reporting in." It was the _Exeter-A_, the ancestor of the original Constitutional Class starship of the 23rd century.

"Capt. Reginald Keene, _U.S.S. Reagan_, standing by."

"Capt. Emilio Sanchez, _U.S.S. Womack_, standing by."

"Capt. Jonathan Parker, _U.S.S. Phoenix_, standing by."

"Capt. Richard Galls, _U.S.S. Oriskany_, standing by." It was the deep Southern voice of a colored man.

"Capt. Nathan Phelps, _U.S.S. Ridgeway_, standing by."

"Capt. "Bob" Pritchard, _U.S.S. Lexington_, standing by."

"Capt. Ronald Parker, _U.S.S. Ranger_, standing by."

This was in the respective order. The rest of the assigned fleet, comprising of the _Vossenberg_, the _Boswell_, the _Walor_, the _Schumer_, the _Mint_, the _Kelvin_, the _Glenbeck_, the _Nixon_, the _Antilles_, the _Falkenberg_, and the _Womack_ were on reserve and standby duty.

There was no further reporting from any starships in the offensive group. That was, until Admiral Hayes recalled the _Crazy Horse_ to his recollection.

"Where is the _Crazy Horse_?" asked the Fleet Admiral.

Another starship, Excelsior class, dropped out of trans-warp. It was the _U.S.S. Crazy Horse_, the ship initially assigned with the _Enterprise_ and the _Agamemnon_ with Task Force Three. Now the _Crazy Horse_, after undergoing some light modifications on its weapons systems was fairly up to the challenge in the fight against the Borg.

"Captain Kim of the _U.S.S. Crazy Horse_, reporting for duty!"

"Captain Kim, you are assigned to the offensive group. Are your weapons systems online?"

"Yes, command, we copy." The _Crazy Horse_ cruised toward the ships in the offensive group.

"The rest of the combined fleet on standby will keep their distance from the cubes while the offensive force prepares for the attack," ordered the Fleet Admiral. Then he issued a new order for the offensive group. "All starships on the offensive group, prepare for flanking maneuver," he ordered rather hastily. "Arm all weapons systems. Commence attack pattern Alpha. The _Reagan_ and _Kennedy_ will lead the initial assault."

"Copy that," responded Capt. Keene promptly.

"We copy," responded Capt. Sanchez.

"Let 'er rip, boys!" said the Fleet Admiral.

The offensive fleet dispersed around the Borg cube, closing in for the kill. This wasn't the first time such a strategy was employed against a single Borg cube; during the battle at Wolf 3-5-9, this was the same strategy that forty starships employed. Sadly thirty-nine starships were compromised due to the intellect of Capt. Picard, known as "Locutus" almost after his assimilation into the Borg collective. The only good thing that the combined fleet had on their side was that "Locutus" was no longer in command of the Borg ships, so the fleet might have gained some bit of an edge in the tactical aspects of the engagement.

"Commence firing," ordered the Fleet Admiral.

The _Reagan_ and the _Kennedy_ cruised toward the lead Borg vessel.

"Concentrate all your firepower onto the nearest Borg vessel."

Both starships dispersed phaser firepower on the lead Borg cube. By all means this was the very first move made by the offensive fleet. The _Ranger_, being a Defiant class starship designed to fight and engage the Borg, immediately followed the lead of both the _Reagan_ and the _Kennedy_. The _Ranger_ let loose a barrage of phaser cannon fire and photon torpedoes onto the center of the cube vessel, where _Reagan_ and _Kennedy_ initially let loose their arsenal.

The rest of the offensive group closed in on the lead vessel for the kill. One vessel, the _Oriskany_, was fired on by the vessel using a green neutralizer beam used for frying starships. The _Oriskany_ suffered a major shield drainage, as well as an onboard short, but survived and kept going.

Admiral Hayes watched the battle from the view-screen of the _Repulse_. "Maintain your distance," he ordered the offensive group. "Light contact, minimal; let's see if that cube's got a weak spot."

The offensive group adopted a tactic of phaser spread and torpedo scattering. The _Womack_ and the _Crazy Horse_ fired a barrage of phaser fire and photon torpedoes directly at the middle of the cube's port side. Admiral Hayes noticed that the two other cubes were not engaging the offensive starships, which was a mite unusual, given that the Borg were experts in stomping uprisings efficiently.

"Why are those damn cubes not firing?" asked Hayes to Capt. Taggert. "Any idea?"

"Probably not," replied Taggert. "Beats me. Maybe those cubes want to save ammo. Perhaps?"

* * *

"Commence firing," ordered Captain Keene.

The captain of the _U.S.S. Ronald Reagan_ could see the starships swarming and targeting the lead Borg vessel right on his view-screen. Two starships, the _Womack_ and the _Oriskany_ were taken out of commission. They were still in one piece, but aside from being inflicted with injurious battle scars that punctured the outer hulls and damaged interiors, the damage on both vessels was catastrophic. The _Oriskany_ had its starboard nacelle blown off, and the _Womack_ had its saucer section chewed out like a pit bull chewing out a cardboard box.

* * *

Chaplain Garland and the five colonial children awaited the inevitable results of the initial stage of the battle against the Borg.

"Lissie, do you think we're all going to die?" Nan asked her eldest sister.

Felicity gripped on her Thompson harder with her right hand. "I sure hope we won't," she answered her sister with a forlorn sigh, and a resolution at the very same time.

"What happens if we do?" Nan pressed further on the matter.

"Well, since you happen to be a good little girl," Chaplain Garland decided to answer for Felicity right away, "It's inevitable, more likely than not, that you might get to heaven. That is, of course, if you believe in its existence, as un-logical as it might be to the non-religious."

"I do believe in heaven!" said Nan almost loudly.

"Really," said the Chaplain a mite teasingly. "Wherever in God's name did you learn such a thing?"

"Mother taught it to us," said Nan, not knowing what else intelligent to say at the moment. "And the Reverend at Church taught it to us."

"Huh," said the Chaplain. "Ya really think life's a-gotta be pretty damn miserable without one, don't it."

"Why, don't _you_ believe in heaven?" asked Felicity a mite anxiously, thinking that the Chaplain they were dealing with was some sort of unbeliever.

"Of course he does," said Elizabeth a mite indignantly. "He wouldn't be a Reverend if he didn't believe in one. Right?"

"Well, some of 'em didn't," admitted the Chaplain. "That's a deviation from the rule. Most of 'em do; just have different versions of 'em, ya know."

"And…what 'version'…is that?" Elizabeth queried a mite anxiously.

"Well, my version comprises of a heavenly place where one gets to satisfy himself with all sorts of pleasures possible without suffering the most detrimental of consequences." The Chaplain held this sort of belief for the afterlife because of what he suffered in the past. Besides, that notion stuck since his childhood, with his dad primarily responsible for bringing those notions into his head. If Chaplain Garland knew from his own point of view that the afterlife was where many physical and sensual pleasures abounded, then at least he himself had something to look forward to if he died, especially if he died during the conflict protecting Felicity and her friends and siblings.

"What brought this topic up?" asked the Chaplain curiously.

"We're afraid all of us are going to die," said Elizabeth worriedly. She was really worried; she really was afraid to die. She just couldn't stand the idea of lying in bed completely lifeless; it was bad enough that her parents told her stories about deceased relatives. She dearly hoped that she wouldn't have to suffer their fate at her age, and she hoped that she would not have to suffer a fate of dying alone, without much of anyone to be with her during her last moments.

"Come on, kids; you ain't gonna die," assured the Chaplain in a half-teasing manner. He still knew the situation was grave, despite his external side of humor. "Ya know why? 'Cause the Borg ain't got no interest in a-killin' nobody. Maybe not even one smidgen o' interest in doing so. I may be wrong, but that's my general impression here. Pretty much all the Borg are mighty damn interested in is assimilatin' ass-loads of alien species. They have a ravenous; yes, ravenous hunger to satisfy in meeting their never-ending…I mean, almost _eternal_ quota of drones to populate their goddamn collective. That's pretty much what they want, really. More members for the collective, willing…or unwilling."

"So, in other words, we have nothing to fear," put in Ben, although Felicity, Elizabeth, and the Chaplain could tell that Ben was just being sarcastic in his newfound statement.

"…Except for a bleak existence of being a member of the collective," finished the Chaplain.

* * *

Strategy was used both by Picard and the Fleet Admiral. Picard conveyed a rather ruthless suggestion to that Admiral. The proposal was rather ruthless because it would involve the death of the entire fleet.

"Admiral, I suggest keeping that Borg cube distracted while I fire a barrage of class-10 warheads into bottom front of the hull." The bottom area of the front hull of the Borg cube was where the most damage was sustained by the offensive barrage.

With an acknowledgement made by Admiral Hayes, Capt. Picard decided to immediately proceed with his brilliant plan without a moment's hesitation. "Mr. Worf, give me a status of our class-10 arsenal."

"We have a total of fifty class-10 antimatter warheads in the torpedo bay, sir," replied Worf gruffly in a rather professional manner ever.

"Arm six torpedoes, and fit them with the class-10."

"Captain, with a Borg vessel at this size, I don't think six torpedoes with those kinds of warheads will blow this cube to smithereens," objected Lt. Bates casually.

"Objection noted," Picard answered rather hastily, not giving so much of a damn as to what Lt. Bates opinionated about the actions of the _Enterprise_ captain. Picard then opened a channel to the main front torpedo bay. "Bridge to torpedo bay!" he ordered.

"Lieutenant Forbes here!" a middle-aged male voice shouted on the comm. "What's on the menu, man?"

"Arm six torpedoes with a class-10 warhead! Lock and load!"

"Already on it, captain!" responded the crewman.

* * *

Inside the torpedo bay of the _Enterprise_, the red-uniformed Lt. Forbes with slick brown hair and a sallow face and four other yellow-uniformed crew personnel hurriedly laid six unarmed torpedoes onto the firing rack.

The torpedoes being used for the stunt were the Mark VI's. For the most part the Mark VI was the standard torpedo design on almost every starship in the Federation. The Mark VI could be customized in virtually every way, from carrying a standard photon warhead to a class-10 antimatter warhead.

To retrofit the Mark VI to detonate with a class-10, Lt. Forbes and his handymen had to uncover the top lid of the torpedo. They then had to extract the standard photon warhead and insert the class-10. Of course, the fitting for the standard photon warhead had to be removed after removing the photon warhead itself. After the fitting was removed, a new fitting that completely accommodated the class-10 was installed into the torpedo itself.

The process of retrofitting each torpedo with the class-10s took at least nearly a minute. Lt. Forbes and his handymen knew they had little to know time to waste in getting what the captain wanted. Or needed. Because the situation was so hurriedly urgent, Lt. Forbes could only have a second's worth of a glance in making sure that the class-10s were fitted properly into the torpedoes' anatomies.

"Bridge! Where are my torpedoes?" Capt. Picard shouted on the comm.

"We've fit three warheads! We're working on the other three!"

"Well, hurry up! I haven't got all day here! Our reinforcements are getting put out of commission by the minute!"

This last statement seemed to goad Lt. Forbes and his men into urgent action.

* * *

Capt. Picard huffed and stomped. The sight of the offensive fleet getting hammered, if not picked off completely, was keeping him at knife's edge.

"Captain, the _U.S.S. Oriskany_ got put out of commission not eleven seconds ago," informed Commander Riker. "That also includes the _U.S.S. Womack_."

Now Picard was even more on the knife's edge. If there were any further delays, three or more ships would be rendered victims of space destruction by the Borg collective. At the moment, about all Picard could do was rescue whatever crew personnel could be rescued from any of the two destroyed ships.

"What is the status of both ships?" he queried.

"Worf?" asked Riker.

Worf scanned the perimeter for the stray starships, then locked on his scanners onto the _Oriskany_. "The _Oriskany_ has lost life support. There is a 98 percent possibility that virtually all crew on board have become victim of asphyxiation." Then he locked on external scanners to the _Womack_. "As for the _Womack_,…they have suffered a severe warp conduit breach."

"How long until?" asked Picard rather urgently.

"Twelve seconds until a catastrophic explosion of their compromised warp core."

Picard knew what to do at this point that it was almost considered to be second nature to him when handling a situation like this. "Bridge to transporter room two. Beam the _Womack_ survivors abort."

"Copy," replied Chief O'Brien on the comm.

Picard then looked back at Riker, who simply made a wry face at him. "Thanks to you not being Locutus, the Borg might have a lesser advantage," remarked Riker, as if he was trying to make Capt. Picard feel a mite better over the situation.

* * *

Lieutenant Forbes and his men had just finished fitting the last Mark VI torpedo with a class-10. Forbes himself then slammed the torpedo lid shut.

"Torps loaded!" Forbes called in on the comm. "Ready to launch!"

* * *

"Fire!" ordered Capt. Picard.

Without a moment's hesitation Lt. Commander Worf pressed hard on a single touch-button on his tactical console. Outside the _Enterprise_ six torpedoes could be seen launching out of the front launcher under the saucer section.

The torpedoes impacted directly on the front-bottom end of the lead Borg cube. The explosion caused by the class-10 antimatter warheads was devastating. On the Borg cube, the Borg were suffering heavy casualties.

"Redirect fire onto the following coordinates," Picard then ordered the Fleet Admiral.

* * *

On the _U.S.S. Repulse, _a yellow-uniformed silver-blonde crewwoman handed a single PADD to Capt. Taggert. With a nod of gratitude, the crewwoman resumed to her usual duties on the Main Bridge.

Capt. Taggert then handed the PADD over to Fleet Admiral Hayes. "Coordinates, as suggested…well, merely _ordered_ by Capt. Picard, Admiral," Taggert informed him.

Admiral Hayes received the PADD and gave the order to open a channel to the offensive group.

"Open a channel to the offensive group," ordered Admiral Hayes.

"Channel open, captain," responded the tactical officer, the same crewwoman who handed the PADD over to Capt. Taggert.

"This is Fleet Admiral Hayes. New coordinates received from Capt. Picard, _U.S.S. Enterprise_. The Borg have received catastrophic damage on grid section 002, 109. Target all of your firepower onto these following coordinates."

It took a bit of a moment for some response to materialize out of thin air. Then the response came in the form of three rapid beeps emanating from the tactical console.

"The fleet's responding, Admiral. They're standing by," informed the tactical officer.

"Fire at will," the Admiral ordered right away.

The starships in the offensive grouped banked to the front section of the lead Borg cube. Then they opened fire. All starships were unleashing deadly barrages of phaser fire and photon torpedoes, some of them using standard photon warheads, and some using a different class of antimatter warhead.

The result was devastating. The lead Borg cube had a deep gash at its underside in its superstructure. All sides gradually split open, as if some huge explosion inside the Borg cube was literally ripping it apart, which it was. Deuterium structures mainly around the sides could be seen tearing apart due to the catastrophic nature of the explosion itself. Orange fire effects could be seen for at least a split second before it was quenched immediately by the atmosphere-less environment of space. Ship parts from the huge superstructure could be seen splintering from the exploding cube and the parts could be seen expanding in a wide radius. Its scattering effect could be seen almost like a ripple wave in a pond, except that the wave was violent like a stormy ocean's.

The first Borg cube was finally destroyed by the combined Federation fleet.

"Seems that our targeting abilities know no bounds, Captain," commented Commander Riker.

"Please," said Picard.

Suddenly a violent jolt could be felt throughout the ship. A secondary Borg cube, upon resuming the engagement, had just fired a green-colored beam directly at the _Enterprise_, and it was already making direct contact with her bubble shield. On the Main Bridge, Worf could see the visual indications of shield grid fluctuations and drainage right on his tactical console. The shield draining beam continued very rapidly until the _Enterprise_ shields were depleted.

"Shields compromised, Captain," informed Worf.

"Alert all personnel," ordered Picard.

* * *

Klaxons resounded throughout the ship. "Attention, all personnel," said a woman's voice on the P.A. Across every corridor crew personnel were scrambling to their positions, manning their replicated mounted weapons and loading their replicated firearms, and possibly their phaser weapons. "External sensors show Borg boarding craft about to make contact with _Enterprise_. Stand by to repel boarders."

Silence encompassed every corridor as every crewman and crewwoman stood by, awaiting for the dreadful moment of their lives to come. Civilians stayed in their quarters. Men and women kept firm and steady and sometimes sweaty hands on their replicated rifles and machine guns.

In a few minutes the moment had come at last. The first three Borg drones beamed on Deck 10. Three crewmen fired off their phasers, with them firing their Type 3s and one curly-blonde crewwoman firing her Type 2. Four Borg drones were resisted by a crewman firing a 50 cal.

Now this Borg invasion was almost spreading throughout every level. On Deck 12, three Borg drones beamed behind one young crewman. The crewman resisted, but was immediately assimilated when the lead drone touched his neck with his snakelike nanotubes. Another crewman fired a handful of rounds at the lead drone with a replicated Tommy gun. Then when he ran out of ammo for his machine gun he switched to a replicated M9 Beretta pistol to take down the other drone, but immediately ran out of ammo and was forced to make a run across the corridor in frightful haste. The former crewman started having black-grey veins spread all over his body until he started acting like one of them.

* * *

The same cycle expanded throughout a majority of levels on board the Enterprise, save for the Main Bridge, as it was equipped with an internal transport inhibitor system.

"Internal transport inhibitor system is online, but not engaged," said Lt. Commander Worf. By that he meant that the system was working, but not implemented on specific levels of the starship itself.

"Very good, Mr. Worf," said Picard. "Initiate secondary defense protocols. Activate all transport inhibitor systems across every level of this ship."

"Already on it," said Worf. Getting back to his tactical console, he speedily brought up the security system interface. He then accessed the interface controls for the _Enterprise_'s transport inhibitor systems. He had to take into account that some of the systems came separate, as some decks had fairly portable transport inhibitors active. For now, he would focus on getting the internal transport inhibitors online.

After toggling with the security settings, Worf finally brought up secondary defensive measures across all levels of the ship.

"Secondary defensive measures active," informed Worf.

"What about in the Guest Quarters?" asked Picard a mite anxiously, remembering that Room 0313 was where Chaplain Garland and the children were residing in at the moment.

"Yes, sir," said Worf.

Picard immediately breathed a sigh of relief.

* * *

On Deck 10, the last of the Borg drones, for the time being, was gunned down by a .50 cal. Two more were shot by a replicated mounted MG-42 Berlin machine gun, and one was shot by a young but fairly inexperienced crewman in yellow uniform with a replicated Springfield M1 Garand rifle.

Then silence encompassed the deck.

"I think that's the last of them," said the crewman with the M1.

"Not quite," said a middle-aged red-uniformed officer with hazel-colored curly hair. "I think there's more gonna be coming. Best brace yourselves, fellas."

* * *

Ladies and gentlemen, once again, my sincerest apologies for the delay. I just had my final exams at Germanna, and I had to get pretty busy preparing for them, so there didn't seem to be a whole lot of time to do the chapters concerning what will be known in this story as the Battle of the Corellian Sector. Also, the reasons for further delays was also because I had to make sense of almost everything that would be taking place during the battle, and there had to be some fair amount of details and various subplots within the chapters themselves, which took more time to think than to write about, not to mention the humongous time it takes to get all the ideas sorted into a coherent manner of narrative.

Furthermore, I had to watch the Battle of Sector 001 in order to get an idea as to how the starships fought the Borg. It was pretty challenging to bring out some sense of order in the midst of the messy complexities of space battles. The more complex the battle, the more challenging it gets to plan out all the little details of the subplots, and the more prone one gets in creating continuity problems by mixing up the various subplots. If even the smallest details of the chapter subplots do not go in chronological order, the story starts to not make sense due to mistakes in continuity. Time and again I had to address the subplot continuity problems throughout at least four following chapters following Chapter 49 that cover the Battle of the Corellian Sector.

The other factor of chapter submission delay was that I had to give some fair measure of detail about how the battle takes places, what tactics were used by both Capt. Picard and the Starfleet reinforcement group, etc. I had to do a fair amount of research from memory-alpha dot org in order to find out what starships were still in commission even after 2370, and whether said starships were anywhere else in the galaxy during the Battle of the Corellian Sector. Starfleet history seems to have more often than not left gaps in starship histories, which I was able to exploit to my advantage, since this exploitation is like "filling the holes" for the minor starships in the history of the United Federation of Planets. The other thing, too, was that I had to come up with non-cliché names for minor starships participating in the Battle of the Corellian sector, some which eventually fall victim to the Borg. This making up of details was pretty necessary because the use of even minor starships in Federation history in my little subplots would contradict some of the history of these starships, making out ST-TNG Souvenirs an alternate universe story.

That was loads of detail being planned for these chapters. So that was why I took quite a long while to submit the battle chapters right away on Fan Fiction. Maybe some time in the near future I might consider expanding a little bit further the part about the initial invasion by the Borg drones, when the Borg first beam on board the _Enterprise_.

And now, for some overdose of Author's Notes:

A/N (1): The spiked gravimetric torpedoes were derived nearly from the Star Trek 2009 movie, where Nero's Romulan mining ship _Narada_ fires spiked torpedoes at the _U.S.S. Kelvin_.

A/N (2): "Blown out into space…" Data: Correction, sir. That's _blown_ out. This phrase was from RedLetterMedia's _Star Trek: First Contact_ movie review.

A/N (3): CIWS stands for Close-In Weapons System. It's the type of anti-missile defense system on board almost every vessel in the United States Navy. (c.f. _The Sum of All Fears_)

A/N (4): The phaser banks fire multiple energy beams in different directions, which target the incoming gravimetric torpedoes fired from the lead Borg vessel. The torpedoes explode after the powerful phaser beams impact on them. (Concept idea from Star Trek Movie, where _U.S.S. Kelvin_ fire phasers at incoming torpedoes from the Romulan mining ship _Narada_.)

A/N (5): The _K'Mar_ is equipped with a complement of 17 prototypes of the Scorpion Class attack flyers. (Note: The Corellian fighter craft are very similar to the actual Scorpion Class attack flyers on the Reman warbard _Scimitar_. The Corellians have their style very different from that of the Remans. The craft themselves are prototypes, as the actual Scorpion flyers have not been introduced until 2375, five years after the events of _Star Trek TNG Souvenirs_, which take place in 2370.)

A/N (6): Fleet Admiral Hayes was featured in Star Trek First Contact.

_**

* * *

**_

STARFLEET BATTLE GROUP ALPHA

**Starfleet Battle Group Flagship**

_**U.S.S. Repulse**_** – NCC-2544** (Excelsior Class) – under the captaincy of Capt. Taggert – under admiral command by Admiral Hayes

**List of starships in the ****offensive**** group**

_**U.S.S. Exeter**_** – NCC-1672-A **(Excelsior Class) – Under command of Capt. William Price

_**U.S.S. Ronald Reagan**_** – NCC-1704** (Constitution Class) – Under command of Capt. Reginald Keene

_**U.S.S. John F. Kennedy – **_**NCC-87649** (Ambassador Class) – Under command of Capt. Emilio Sanchez

_**U.S.S. Phoenix**_** – NCC-65420** (Nebula Class) – under command of Capt. Jonathan Parker (initially under command of Capt. Benjamin Maxwell, before he relinquished command)

_**U.S.S. Oriskany**_** – NCC-45176** (Merced Class – Refit) – under command of Capt. Richard Galls (black guy)

_**U.S.S. Ridgeway**_** – NCC-76202** (Nebula Class) – under command of Capt. Nathan Phelps

_**U.S.S. Lexington**_** – NCC-1709** (Constitution Class) – Under command of Capt. Robert "Bob" Prichard

_**U.S.S. Ranger**_** – NCC-76205** (Defiant Class) – Under command of Capt. Ronald Parker

_**U.S.S. Crazy Horse**_** – NCC-86654** (Excelsior Class) – Under command of Capt. Kim (Korean-Japanese guy)

Note: Starships listed from memory-alpha dot org have actual registry numbers derived from the references of memory-alpha dot org.

**List of starships in the ****reserve**** group**

_**U.S.S. Vossenberg**_ (Korolev Class) – under command of Capt. Virginia Kemp (Named after Annalisa Vossenberg, one of the influential delegates who was slain during the Khitomer Massacre)

_**U.S.S. Walor **_(Nova Class)

_**U.S.S. Boswell**_ (Steamrunner Class) – Under command of Capt. Robert Gates (black guy)

_**U.S.S. Charles S. Schumer**_ (Miranda Class) – Under command of Capt. Richard Gauss

_**U.S.S. James D. Mint**_ (Constellation Class)

_**U.S.S. Kelvin**_**– NCC-0514-B** (Challenger Class) – Under command of Capt. David Fourier

_**U.S.S. Glenbeck**_ (Excelsior Class)

_**U.S.S. Richard Nixon**_** – NCC-1703** (Constitution Class)

_**U.S.S. Antilles**_ (Renaissance Class)

_**U.S.S. Falkenberg **_(Akira Class)

_**U.S.S. Womack **_(Excelsior Class)

U.S.S. Oriskany's registry number was derived from a Renaissance class starship with the same digits, only they were flipped.


	50. Chapter 50

_**Star Trek: The Next Generation – Souvenirs**_

**Written By:**_** Commander Cody CC-2224**_

CHAPTER 50

On board the Corellian Battle Cruiser K'Mar…

The corridors of the Corellian Battle Cruiser _K'Mar_ were teeming with panicky Corellian crew personnel and intrusive Borg drones. Borg drones seized Corellian crewmembers and attempted assimilation against them, but the crew themselves were shot by their own fellow members to prevent their kind from being assimilated into the collective consciousness of the Borg.

In one of the upper levels a few levels down from the Main Bridge, a squad of five Corellian troopers fired their pulse-firing Corellian battle disruptor rifles at a group of advancing Borg drones. It was not long, however, before the squad was overwhelmed by more advancing drones that were able to adapt to the firepower of the battle rifles sooner than the Corellians expected.

But the Corellians knew this before, due to the last encounter of the Borg made by the Corellian Science Vessel _K'Tan_. Within moments that the Borg were able to adapt to their weaponry, the squad captain would give the order to fall back to more secure levels aboard the ship.

"Fall back!" shouted the squad captain in his native Corellian tongue. "Fall back to Level 22!"

The squad immediately retreated slowly, while at the same time firing their weapons, in the hopes of keeping the advancing Borg drones at bay long enough for them to get to a secure area in the deathtrap corridor where an active force field could be engaged. When they did reach that secure area in the corridor, the squad captain inserted his keycard into a slot at the right-hand side of the corridor blast shield door. A single obsidian-colored blast door slid shut at the speed of a mouse trap and a force field equivalent to a level-10 force field on most Federation starships was erected immediately in less than a second.

The squad captain took a glance at his team. The personnel just stared at him, not knowing what to do. They knew that it would be a matter of time before Borg found a way to penetrate this barrier.

Meanwhile, on the Main Bridge, Commander Kese detected a severe power surge across the ship. The Borg were diverting power from various sources across the battle cruiser. In haste he took a quick reference at the highly detailed Master Systems Display built into a transparent plasma screen.

What he witnessed was very alarming to Kese himself. All over the Master Systems Display indicated level sections all across the ship were blinking blue. Because the blue color meant imminent danger to the Corellians, just as red was a sign of danger for Federation personnel, Kese's heart started pounding like crazy. The MSD was indicating visually that almost every area of the ship was Borg infested, since the Borg had just boarded the _K'Mar_ nearly a half hour ago.

And what was worse, from what the MSD was visually indicating power to the main ray gun had been cut off. The Borg were already in the process of diverting electric power from various sources across the cruiser itself, including the internally-built transport inhibitors. But Commander Kese was not the first to let the captain know of this.

"Captain, fire control to the main guns are offline!" exclaimed the helmsman, while clutching his helm console interface.

"The guns were our last defensive option!" exclaimed Capt. Viss. "What about the other turbolaser systems?"

"Gone, too," answered Commander Kese right away. He hung his head, as if he was formally shamed by something he did to displease the captain.

Capt. Viss cocked his head to his comm officer. "Contact the fighters," he ordered quietly in such a dramatically grave tone of voice. "Call them off. Tell them to make a jump to Sector 1042. Not, I repeat, not to the home-world, but Sector 1042. They will be stationed there, on reserve, until…"

"Until when?" inquired the young comm officer.

"Until this battle is over. We cannot allow our pilots to get abducted by the Borg. It's bad enough our onboard personnel run this…this risk. At all costs, give the order for our fighter pilots not to lead the Borg to our home-world."

"Aye, sir," acknowledged the comm officer before setting to work on issuing what would be considered a retreat order to the Corellian pilots fighting off the Borg cubes.

Capt. Viss then turned to his tactical officer, motioning him rather subtly to step into the captain's ready room. Kese complied right away, taking his steps in a very brisk manner. The captain followed suit and then locked his ready room door by inserting his keycard into a right-hand slot of the doorway. Then he stuck his keycard into his right-hand-side pocket.

Next he engaged a muffling system around his ready room to prevent eavesdropping from any of the Main Bridge personnel should they find out what both he and Capt. Viss were up to. The muffling system usually comprised of a force field, but it was a type of force field that had the capability of sensory deprivation from any sounds outside the captain's ready room.

"You are hereby authorized to escape from this vessel…with your life," he told Kese quietly in his native tongue. "You are also ordered to seek assistance from any personnel on board the _Enterprise_…if you can. You should be able to find sheltering in an area with an active transport inhibitor. Most likely…where our five human specimens are, as they are considered high-value targets by both the Federation, the Corellians, and…the Borg." He took a pause. "These…these are your new orders."

Commander Kese didn't need to be given a briefing for this. He knew of those things already between the time when the _K'Mar_ encountered the _Enterprise_ and when the Borg arrived.

"You have my words," replied Commander Kese in his native tongue. After a nod of acknowledgement on the part of Capt. Viss, he handed his tactical officer his disruptor pistol. Commander Kese received the pistol rather ceremoniously with his right hand.

"Commander," said the captain, "You have extensive knowledge of tactical data in countering the Borg. At all costs, do not let yourself be captured by the Borg. They will use you against us…to their greatest advantage."

"Yes, sir," replied Kese. "May the gods be with us all."

After Kese made a deep, impressionable bow, Kese disengaged the muffler system with the quick adeptness of pressing a single touch-button on his desk. Then he walked briskly over to the doorway and disengaged the automatic locking mechanisms of the captain's ready room automatic sliding door. Kese walked out of the ready room with a fair amount of confidence within his own self. He walked up to the panel on the port side of the Main Bridge, entered an authorization code and swung open a fairly large wall panel. Inside the niche contained a cache of Corellian disruptor battle rifles and some body armor equipped with secondary force fields that deflected disruptor particles and other forms of small projectiles. He strapped on one set of body armor across his torso and loaded one of the disruptor rifles. Then he set out of the Main Bridge.

Kese then took the turbolift, which he then set to descend to level 30, where the main hangar bay was. The touch-button rectangular panels had fifty deck buttons, since a Corellian battle cruiser boasted at least a rough average of fifty decks, notwithstanding storage areas in the belly of the cruiser itself. The fifty-deck format design was pretty much standard in the architecture of every Corellian Battle Cruiser.

However, a pretty awful mishap, inconvenient and inviting of the turbolift as a death trap, as it was, happened along the way down. Before the turbolift could even pass Deck 29, power to the main turbolift had been totally cut off very abruptly. As a result the turbolift came to a grinding halt, and then the fluorescent lights dimmed completely until all that remained in the complete and utter darkness of the sealed turbolift were the thick luminescent white-blue outlines of the turbolift touch-buttons on the touch-button panel. Then those luminescent touch-buttons dimmed completely, too, like tiny eyes.

Commander Kese was now left alone in total darkness, and trapped, too, which made the current situation of his a whole lot worse, since there was little to no hope that rescue from his fellow crewmen would ever come. But he had one more asset that he would make use of in his darkest hour. A fluorescent flashlight was a tool that he kept at his person at all times. Fishing out his electroluminescent, pure purple-blue flashlight out of his dark purple belt, he shone its terrific brightness across first the center of the carpeted dark-purple turbolift floor. He shone it all around until he managed to locate a trapdoor. After locating the small, hand-sized manual release lever, Commander Kese managed to prop open the trapdoor, which acted as some sort of maintenance hatch for the main turbolift.

Next he whipped out his ascension gun, or A-gun, a special type of Corellian device for rappelling and ascending steep ledges. With that he made his deep descent into the pit of the turbolift shaft after attaching the attachment of his ascension gun to the front-most panel area of the metallic interior of the circular turbolift wall. The attachment was a special attachment with a special metallic alloy drill that was capable of drilling and actually stick to virtually any metal, and possibly wooden structures. The attachment could also be virtually strong enough to allow the hoisting of an individual 150lb man, but that was its weight limitation. Attached to the holder was a cable or wire rope made of tensile Corellian steel, which possessed the equivalence of Damascus steel from planet Earth. The cable itself was thin, yet exceptionally strong to handle a single man.

With his A-gun Commander Kese had made his deep descent into the bowels of the Corellian battle cruiser. There were maintenance ladders at the opposite end of the turbolift shaft, but Commander Kese thought that it would be faster for him to make his speedy descent down the shaft using his A-gun. He braked his A-gun when he reached a sliding door labeled Deck 40, and he did so by pressing hard on a solid button on the right hand side of the A-gun. With his free left hand while his right hand held on to the A-gun he fished out a 3 by 1 device that would allow for the locked turbolift deck doors to automatically slide open on command. He slapped the device onto the sliding door and entered a four-character command. The sliding doors slid open, and Kese managed to get the rectangular device off the door panel before both doors slid completely open.

Commander Kese then disengaged the attachment of his A-gun, and the tensile steel cable rolled back swiftly like a spring-powered tape measurer. He then sped past the blinking blue corridors with their blinking electric blue panels. He sped past his fellow crew fighting off Borg drones, occasionally stopping by on the way to lend a brief hand in blasting Borg drones with his Corellian disruptor rifle.

He rushed past a few more corridors until he came to the main hangar bay, which was at this point locked down. Kese swiftly slid his security keycard into a sliding slot panel at the right-hand side of the doorway, hoping it would work, desperately. The hangar doors slid open and Kese stepped inside. Then using the same procedures that he used to open the hangar doors, he made the doors slid shut slowly.

A Corellian porter was waiting near the shuttlecraft that Kese had the intention of taking. The craft was a similar model of the Corellian shuttlecraft that transported the five colonial children during the Borg takeover of the Corellian science vessel _K'Tan_. It also had both a starboard and port egress. Kese waved the Corellian porter off, and the porter complied, stepping away from the shuttlecraft. Then he stepped into the already open shuttlecraft doorway on the craft's starboard side. (The Corellian shuttlecraft was facing the back end of the main hangar bay.) When Kese boarded the shuttlecraft, he shut the boarding doors, which flipped up till they sealed themselves completely.

Kese then made his way to the cockpit. He managed to successfully input a handful of touch-button commands directly on the touch-screen interface of the helm console. Then getting a grip on the helm control interface he managed to elevate the shuttlecraft. After that he then swung the craft hard to port at a 180 degree angle until he was facing the front end of the main shuttle bay, whose gaping opening was protected by a several gigawatt force field system. Engaging throttle controls, Kese sped the shuttlecraft straight out of the main hangar bay and away from the battle cruiser, putting himself between himself and the cruiser at least a rough estimate of 7000 meters.

* * *

Commander Kese went through a special stage of Corellian technique of meditation. It was a type of meditation that involved undergoing some sort of trancelike state. Watching Commander Kese meditate would have been like observing a man who was oblivious to everything going around him. As disadvantageous as the technique was to Corellians who were in the midst of battle, since it would put them off guard at times, most Corellians found this particular technique of meditation to be alleviating to intense stress.

Kese set the shuttlecraft on autopilot. Then he began to go through a mental state involving seeing loved ones in his head. As he thought of his wife and children back in his homeworld, the Corellian homeworld at the heart of the Corellian Sector, he started seeing them in his mind. He began imagining that he was really with them, even if he could only be with his family back home entirely in spirit, if not entirely in body. Corellians believed that several deities were responsible for keeping their loved ones with them in spirit, and were primarily responsible for the spiritual link that allowed them to be with each other in spirit, if not in body. Commander Kese must have occasionally undergone trances like this during his being stationed on the _K'Mar_.

Next he began going through some sort of intense examination of conscience regarding the actions he was about do for the rest of the battle. Commander Kese was considering hiding on board the _Enterprise_ and just simply wait for the whole bloody battle to be all over. But that was a coward's way, at least it was when it came to his people. Corellians, for all their ways of retreating in the face of an overwhelming enemy, would do everything to make sure that their homeworld and their people would be protected. That is, if it came to enemies that were not Borg because if the Borg assimilated even one Corellian individual, he had to be eliminated. Kese was even considering just simply taking his chances at retaking the _K'Mar_, even if the odds were extraordinarily high.

If Commander Kese started having morbid thoughts about dying, he was already a mixture of both excitement and trepidation about where to go once he died. As a youth, he sometimes wondered what the afterlife would be like. Corellians believed in the existence of afterlife where the soul, once reunited with the body immediately after death, would be ushered into Corellian Paradise. Such a paradise would comprise of a place where people could satisfy every sort of pleasure they yearned greatly for without deleterious consequences to themselves or to others. Commander Kese was hoping for a time when he could be reunited with some sort of manifestation of his family, if he died and was ushered into Corellian Paradise. Corellians believed that such a paradise was intended for holy people as well as for people who didn't particularly lead good lives. The Corellian concept of good and evil was somewhat fudged, as their society was structured in a fairly utopian manner in which people believed that their fellow comrades were born basically good, that is, in the moral sense. With such a notion, it wasn't surprising that an impression of moral relativism could be reflected in their actions. No doubt Commander Kese witnessed such examples in the form of seeing some of his fellow crewmen shooting each other just to prevent one of their kind from being abducted by the Borg. Most respectable human beings would view Kese's witnessed examples as horrifically drastic and at times immoral, but with the Corellians, they sometimes saw some actions, even the ones that humans would deem morally unacceptable, as necessary for the common good of their fellow comrades.

Commander Kese listed the things he would do once he was on board the _Enterprise_ right on his PADD. First he would seek shelter on a secure area of the ship. While in shelter he would plan strategy on activating the main weapon system on the board _K'Mar_. This objective at least, he thought, should be feasible, as it would involve destroying the Borg cubes. He thought it practical to focus time and resources on accomplishing this objective, as just simply retaking the _K'Mar_ deck by deck with only a handful of human helpers would be a waste of time, resources, and human lives.

_That's the plan,_ Kese thought to himself with some fair determination.

The proximity sensors woke him up from his meditations. Commander Kese immediately disengaged the autopilot system. He finally arrived near the shuttle bay of the _Enterprise_ and prepared to make a request to the _Enterprise_ for permission to land his shuttlecraft and seek shelter aboard the _Enterprise_ itself.

* * *

Captain Picard heard the voice of Commander Kese on the comm. "This is Commander Kese, first officer of the Corellian Battle Cruiser _K'Mar_. I have received orders from Capt. Viss to seek shelter on board your vessel. Our vessel has been outnumbered, and since I possess information on tactical matters on possibly defeating the Borg, I have been ordered to…"

"What the hell does he want?" interjected Commander Riker. "The _K'Mar_ is supposed to be the most advanced vessel in this Quadrant! And this guy is escaping with his life from…!"

"Open a channel, Number One," ordered Picard, cutting his First Officer off. Commander Riker did what he was told, even though he felt pretty miffed over being cut off. It was sort of his hubris on his part. "Channel open, Captain," he said, trying to control his very self from exploding.

Picard began to speak over the comm. "This is Captain Jean-Luc Picard of the Federation starship _Enterprise_," he spoke. "Commander, I am aware from your babbling that you wish to seek shelter on the _Enterprise_. However, let me caution you that our vessel is also under Borg attack. If your commanding officer ordered you to escape with your life," he continued, bearing in mind his First Officer's complaint in the form of objection, "You need to set a course somewhere away from this sector as soon as possible."

"Yes, Captain," replied Commander Viss. "However, I am under orders to seek assistance from any of your personnel activating our main weapon system. As it appears, a large majority of our crew has…has abandoned ship."

"Wait a minute!" said Riker. "Can't he do it himself? He's got the advanced technological know-how to Corellian technology! I don't see what use we can be to him, except act as his cannon fodder for Borg!"

"I heard that," said the Corellian officer. "If you would just let me explain…"

"Nope," said Picard rather abruptly. "I'll do the explaining. Stand by." He turned to Worf. "Shut off the comm," he ordered his tactical officer. Worf immediately set to work on switching off the communications array between the _Enterprise_ and Commander Kese's shuttlecraft.

Capt. Picard then turned to face Riker with a rather stern glare. "Number one," he said quite furiously, "I am by all means aware that this fellow might be some sort of coward of the lowest levels, but _we_ have struck an _alliance_ with the Corellians. Diplomatically it is considered discourteous to refuse shelter to any of the personnel whom we are with. Is that clear?"

"Perfectly, Captain," said Riker half-coldly. "But as your first officer, it is my _duty_ to inform you about any possible repercussions about any intentions associated with allied alien personnel. You might not be aware of this, Captain, but by letting him onto this vessel, you further risk the safety of our timeline, if not this ship and crew already. For all we know, that officer might want to seek shelter where our guests from time are because it is supposed to be the more secure area along the entire transport inhibitor areas. And given that the Borg are most likely after this fellow, you risk the present timeline just by proceeding with his request."

Picard nodded his head rather musingly, if not half-heartedly. Having his anger cooled, the captain came back to serious rational thinking without the angry feelings of feeling lectured by his First Officer.

"You may be correct in your reasonable assumptions, Number One," he replied. "However, as the Corellians are allied with us, my order to give that officer shelter on board this vessel stands. It's also possible that as he is also tasked with seeing assistance one way or the other on the _Enterprise_ he will at the very least need temporary shelter so that he can retake his vessel from the Borg, if he possibly can. In the meantime, however, use the security system to keep an eye on that officer on the security monitor when he arrives."

"Got it, sir," replied Commander Riker, feeling somewhat relieved, if not completely, about Picard actually suggesting some cautionary measure for the Corellian officer, with whom Riker had a pretty strong suspicion off as regard to the Corellian officer's intentions.

"Resume channel opening," ordered Picard right away.

"Done," said Worf.

Picard spoke up once again on the open comm channel. "Commander, you are cleared to dock at the Main Shuttlebay." Then he ordered Worf to close the channel. "Bridge to Main Shuttlebay. Prepare to open the bay doors. We have a guest to accommodate. And hurry!"

* * *

"Roger, Captain. We copy."

The shuttlebay chief, a man in his mid 40s, with curly black-brown hair signaled the yellow-uniformed shuttlebay personnel responsible for operating the bay door controls. The personnel immediately responded to the scene at the behest of the shuttlebay chief.

The bay doors slowly slid opened in opposite directions like regular aircraft hangar doors. Then the Corellian shuttlecraft was tractor-beamed and set to rest neatly on the side of the shuttlebay, on the right side relative from facing from the open shuttlebay doors. The shuttlebay doors then proceeded to slide shut, and then engaged the pneumatic pressure seal system, and the external force field system.

A second after his shuttlecraft landed, Commander Kese exited from the starboard egress after opening the starboard boarding door which flapped down and revealed boarding steps. Unexpectedly, however, he found two yellow-uniformed crewmen waiting for him. One was armed with a replicated WWII Italian Moschetto Automatico Beretta 38A, the other was armed with a Browning Automatic Rifle. Kese thought that these replicated weapons seemed too primitive for a civilization as advanced as the Federation, but he had no time to make objections to that because those two men were already on him.

"Captain Picard sent us as your escort," informed the man armed with the Moschetto in a rather down-to-earth manner of speaking.

"My thanks sent," replied Kese in a rather toneless manner. Sometimes this was a Corellian humanoid alien's semi-cryptic way of saying "Thank you."

"My name is crewman Jack Gill, and the guy on my right is crewman Darryl Richardson. Call him "Stoogie" 'cause he acts kinda funny. A little. You know, like one of the three Stooges?"

Crewman Gill's dark-blond hair was reflected by the fluorescent light all around him, and his hazel-brown eyes sparkled, too. Crewman Richardson had the same hairstyle as that of Crewman Gill, except that his eyes were charcoal gray.

Commander Kese seemed to have never heard of that television show on planet Earth. He shrugged his shoulders in utter confusion.

"Anyway, could tell by the surprise," said crewman Gill. "Capt. Picard figures you were so elated you cut off the comm," said Crewman Gill, when Kese betrayed a hint of not initially expecting the two men to accompany him.

Kese figured out pretty much that with two men with him either for escort or assistance, he should make some sort of heroic attempt to retake the Corellian battle cruiser. However, he thought he should allow those two men to escort him to shelter so that he can plan strategy in retaking the Corellian battle cruiser and reactivating the _K'Mar'_s main weapon system so that the Borg cubes can be destroyed, aside from just merely seeking shelter form relentless Borg drones.

Not bothering to either criticize or compliment the reply of this strange alien commander, the two crewmen escorted Commander Kese hurriedly out of the shuttlebay. Gill was at the front while Richardson was behind. Encountering stray Borg drones, both front and behind, both men fired their replicated guns pretty sparingly, in order to ensure clean and fairly accurate machine gun shots. Crossing through the corridor of Deck 4, the trio came upon a square shaft 2 by 2 feet. Crewman Gill flapped down the square hatch while Richardson took pot shots at stray Borg drones, firing as much of his ammo if necessary. The square hatch revealed a Jeffries tube.

"Inside!" he yelled.

The trio immediately made their way into the Jeffries tube, and Richardson immediately sealed the Hatch.

"If any Borg drones start beaming into this area, we'll be having a hell of a time trying to keep 'em off this alien VIP," said Gill.

"That happens, I'm just a-gonna blast 'em indiscriminately all to hell, even if this VIP is strung up in the middle of all of 'em," said Richardson.

The trio immediately came upon a network of ladders that covered almost all decks. "We're going down the Deck 10 one," said Gill, who at this point, seemed to act and be the sole leader of this little group.

"Why?" asked Commander Kese.

"'Cause Capt. Picard said that in Deck 10 is the Guest Quarters where his own little VIPs are stationed," answered Gill, in reference to the Guest Quarters where the five colonial children were. For that matter, and somewhat judging by the tone of his own voice, Crewman Gill didn't seem to have much regard about the children because he never met them before. For him, this was simply just another job for him and his pal.

The three guys assessed their footing and made sure their footing was secure on the Jeffries tube ladder. Crewman Gill, being the leader somewhat, was the first to make the initial steps of ascent.

"You're next, pal," said Richardson to this seemingly strange Corellian officer. Commander Kese immediately climbed down the first few steps. Then Crewman Richardson followed after Commander Kese.

As the three men climbed the shaft ladder, a voice on the PA from the Main Bridge came through the speakers. "Attention, all personnel on lower decks," said a woman's voice. "Borg drones are infesting Decks 23 up to 16. Recommend you fall back to upper levels."

"Oh, great!" exclaimed Gill. "Man, you'd better be a-hoping that those drones don't get to Deck 10 before we do!" He turned to the alien commander. "Come on, weirdo! You gotta keep up fast! Too slow for our pace. Goin' down is easier than going up!"

"Easy," said Commander Kese somewhat calmly and coldly.

In a few minutes the three men came to the horizontal Jeffries tube of the Deck 10 level. "That's our destination," said Gill.

The three men immediately made their crawl through the Jeffries tube until they came to an external hatch. Gill unlocked the hatch and Commander Kese and Richardson made their fairly awkward crawl out of the tube.

"Come on, let's go!" exclaimed Gill right away.

The group of three made their way through multi-uniformed crew personnel firing Borg drones that had the audacity to beam on board the Enterprise.

"What is on Deck 10 that is significance in accomplishing my mission?" asked Commander Kese.

"The Guest Quarters on Deck 10 is protected by the transport inhibitor system," replied Gill.

"That being the case, it is suspected to be the safest place on board the ship," added Richardson. "Man, I wish I could…"

Before he could even finish his sentence, a single Borg drone that beamed near the Richardson at random immediately took over him. And he did so by grabbing Richardson in a surprise attack by his scruff and using his right-hand machine thing that protruded snakelike nanotubes to assimilate the unfortunate man.

"Darryl!" shouted Gill.

"Shoot me! Shoot me!" shouted Richardson desperately.

Crewman Gill immediately shot his pal Crewman Richardson. Realizing that the dead man was useless to the collective, the Borg drone just simply dropped him like a human carcass, not even feeling some sense of remorse or disgust. The Borg drone, however, was going to gain an advantage over Gill, as well as Commander Kese himself. Therefore Gill immediately squeezed a handful of machine gun rounds at the Borg drone, and the drone dropped dead.

Commander Kese found the spectacle rather weird, if not totally disheartening, which was what many a human being would have done. _Maybe humans even killed each other just to put them out of their misery,_ he thought to himself, especially the misery of being one in being with the Borg collective itself.

But his brief meditations were broken up when Gill told him to get over the incident. "Come on, let's go," he said softly now to Commander Kese.

In a few minutes Gill and Commander Kese arrived to the entrance of the Guest Quarters. Commander Kese himself was a mite clueless as to where the door chime was. Crewman Gill fortunately managed to locate it for him.

"Yes?" It was the voice of Chaplain Garland.

"You've got a visitor," said Gill. "A VIP. His name is Commander Kese, another weirdo."

Commander Kese only sighed in exasperation. "Can I come in?" he asked.

* * *

Inside the second Borg cube acting as lead vessel for the two-vessel Borg "fleet", the Borg Queen studied the _Enterprise_ carefully with covetous eyes. Suddenly an idea hit upon her cyborg head.

"Status," she ordered the collective coolly.

"_U.S.S.-Enterprise_-has-been-boarded," replied the collective in unison. "Are-making-litte-progress."

"Perform a thorough scan of the _Enterprise_," ordered the Queen.

In a few moments a huge, overtly detailed schematics display of the _Enterprise_ showing the exquisite details of every area of the ship were laid out on the view-screen for the Borg Queen to feast her eyes on.

"Now locate the source of the collective's impediment," he ordered again.

"Impediment-in-form-of-…active-transporter-inhibitors," replied the Borg collective in toneless unison.

"Locate the power source."

"Power-source-controlled-by…security-complex," answered the collective submissively.

Then the Borg Queen really had something in mind. Now that she knew where the source of the transport inhibitors that were causing impediment to the conquest of the Borg, she could efficiently save resources by diverting one source of energy to take out the security room's protective shield grid system and de-man the security room.

"Target the shield drainer onto grid 0-0-1-4," ordered the Borg Queen coolly.

The Borg cube applied the lime-green shield drainer beam onto the bow area of the _Enterprise_, the space between the warp nacelles. The shield grid was too strong; too reinforced.

"Initiate an electro-kinetic surge to that grid area," ordered the Queen. Immediately a single electro-kinetic particle was fired from the middle of the cube's front. The single particle impacted directly on the same area where the shield drainer beam touched the _Enterprise_.

* * *

In the security room on board the _Enterprise_ a massive power short crippled the security systems. The system, however, was not enough to shut down the transport inhibitors, but were enough to knock out surveillance, in which many of the surveillance instruments were controlled by the personnel in the security room.

"We've got a short! We've got a short!" one of the yellow-uniformed personnel shouted frantically. That same crewman soon became victim to a shower of electrical sparks that scalded his sensitive skin.

Two other yellow-uniformed personnel were knocked to their feet by another violent heave on the ship. In a few seconds two Borg drones beamed immediately into the disabled, darkened room. Immediately they laid hands on the crew personnel occupying the room.

Then one Borg drone plugged his right "Borg-assimilated" hand into a vital security console. The Borg drone then accessed the transport inhibitor system and deactivated it.

* * *

On the Main Bridge, the transport inhibitor shutdown was immediately detected by Worf. He informed the captain right away.

"Captain, the Borg have taken out the security center on Deck 5!" he said gruffly. "There's a wide gap in the field!"

Picard knew the time had come to retreat to more secure area where he could direct tactics against the Borg. He knew that the Battle Bridge was the best place. Unlike the Main Bridge, the Battle Bridge had its own internal transport inhibitor system linked to a separate power source across the Bridge itself. For Capt. Picard, the Battle Bridge was a secure place where he could conduct at least part of the battle against the Borg in whatever way he could. This was because as a Battle Bridge, the tactical array was far more advanced than that of the Main Bridge.

"This is it!" he shouted loudly. "Computer, deactivate all main systems on the Main Bridge. Authorization: Picard, 4-7-Alpha-Tango!"

"COMMAND CONFIRMED," said the passionless computer. "ALL MAIN SYSTEMS ON BOARD MAIN BRIDGE ARE OFFLINE."

"Evacuate to the Battle Bridge! Immediately!" Picard ordered the rest of the Main Bridge personnel. He and the Bridge crew took, a few at a time, took the turbolift that lead directly to the Battle Bridge.

* * *

The docking area of the _Enterprise_ was attached with a drone craft carrying a Borg boarding party. The airlock blew and the Borg made full contact. A security team fired their phaser weapons at the Borg, taking a portion of the party out of commission. The rest, however, adapted fast to the weapons charge.

"They've adapted!" one man panicked.

"Fall back!" shouted the team leader. "Fall back to Deck 13!"

Other Borg drones were making past the security personnel stationed at the docking bulkheads. They were attempting to take out the transport inhibitor devices offline by firing charged particles. The inhibitor devices would have to be taken out one by one if the Borg were to spread throughout the ship. Some of the security personnel set up force-fields across the corridors.

"Captain, some of our transport inhibitors are taken out of commission!" informed the Team Leader as the second point man. "There's a wide gap across the aft part of the ship!"

* * *

"Understood!" Picard responded as he supervised the hurried evacuation of the Main Bridge personnel.

Evacuation from the Main Bridge to the Battle Bridge was completed in an efficient manner.

All main systems were shut down. Computer screens were switched off, including the lights as well. By the time Picard and the crew, the bridge was completely dark, with almost not a single light on.

* * *

And now for another overdose of…Author's Notes! Because someone needs to explain some aspects of this chapter for the reader to glean some fair measure of detail as to what the hell is going on board the Corellian Battle Cruiser _K'Mar_ and the Federation Starship _U.S.S. Enterprise_!

Deck 4 is where the Main Shuttlebay is, where the Corellian Commander Kese is granted permission to dock his Corellian shuttlecraft. He has to be escorted by two Federation crewmen so that he doesn't get lost. The three have to make their descent to Deck 10 because that is where the Guest Quarters is, which is said to be a secure area on board the ship due to the VIP status of our five main characters (Felicity and her friends and siblings). Commander Kese and the two crewmen have to use a Jeffries tube system because of the possibility that power might be cut off from the main turbolift, just like it had on board the _K'Mar_ when Kese used the main turbolift to get to a shuttlebay on board _that_ particular vessel.

Although the security center that got hit by a Borg electro-kinetic burst is not listed in the list of a Galaxy class decks from memory-alpha dot org, I decided to locate it there simply because that is where the Interrogation/Detention area is. It might be somewhat of a logical place to put the security center because the detention area…has to be secure. Hee-hee…

Last, but not least…oh, dear; there was another thingy about…something related to the architecture about the Galaxy class starship, but, oh my, I forgot! Damn it! Oh, well…maybe it'll come back to my short term memory…maybe later…

A/N (1): "There were maintenance ladders at the opposite end of the turbolift shaft, but Commander Kese thought that it would be faster for him to make his descent down the shaft using his A-gun." – Oh well; at least _I_ didn't feature him descending down the turbolift shaft with _angel's wings_!

A/N (2): The sliding doors slid open, and Kese managed to get the rectangular device off the door panel before both doors slid completely open. (C.f. Star Trek First Contact; Device is 3 in by 1 in)

A/N (3): "If Commander Kese started having morbid thoughts about dying, he was already in trepidation about where to go once he died. Corellians believed in the existence of afterlife where the soul, once reunited with the body immediately after death, would be ushered into Corellian Paradise. Such a paradise would comprise of a place where people could satisfy every sort of pleasure they yearned greatly for without deleterious consequences to themselves or to others." – This is an Obamian afterlife, one that many who believe that Obama is the Messiah has promised to his followers.

A/N (4): Damascus steel is supposed to be some sort of hot forged steel used in Middle Eastern swordmaking from from about 1100 to 1700 A.D.. This type of steel (or rather, the technique of forging steel) was accordingly known for its legendary strength (and sharpness). The informationw was derived from wikipedia dot org.

A/N (5): I was watching a _Roughneck: Starship Trooper Chronicles_ episode, and I notice how their "Ascension Guns" had drill bore attachments. That's where I got the idea for Commander Kese's "A-Gun".

_**Author's Notes about Corellian Philosophy**_

Corellian philosophy is pretty bizarre, and can sometimes be confusing and at times contradictory to our own understanding of morals. More than that, the basic explanations featured in this particular chapter about the philosophy that Corellians uphold is no doubt going to be deemed morally questionable to most respectable human beings. The idea that every action taken is necessary for the good of society, even the ones that humans find morally unacceptable, is something that most people will resist, because seem to believe in alternative solutions even in a drastic situation (at least the Peace People and the Flower Children seem to possess that notion). The idea that it is okay to kill another person to prevent him or her from falling into enemy hands is something we balk at, and shake our fists furiously over, unless you're dealing with Borg; in which case once you're captured you're pretty much the Borg's own. But this is Corellian way of thinking, and it remains to be seen as to whether the Corellian race will survive if they keep up this type of philosophy that's part and parcel of their society. (The Author says this because he's too lazy to explain further Corellian philosophy because he himself is not a philosopher, as he had received a grade of C in his Philosophy-201 academic course at the Catholic University of America back in 2009. Even the Author finds himself in moral quandaries while writing these notes.)

_**Author's Notes about Corellian Society**_

I forgot to mention earlier on in the story:

The Corellians are an extraordinarily sexist society. It is most likely that the crew personnel on every Corellian vessel in the Corellian fleet are (predominantly) male. Females are strongly discouraged from entering the military. It's basically all men on every Battle Cruiser and Science Vessel. In their society equal opportunity in the Corellian military does not apply to women. (It's a society almost modeled after ancient Greece.) It is possible that elsewhere in Corellian society that equal opportunity might apply in some fields of employment, but the military is actually a no-no for females, since aside from their strong belief that women are intellectually inferior in military matters they think it might cause internal destabilization, since a majority of Corellian males have a strong aversion to joining an organization that is "too feminine" for their tastes.

The other reason is that women only serve as a source of distraction in the Corellian armed forces, due to ranging sex hormones in young Corellian males. As a result, great effort is placed on prohibiting women from entering the military. The other factor is personal taste. For a majority of Corellian males, if there's even a single woman in said organization, those aversions might apply to the Corellian workforce, leading to possible segregation based on gender. Such is the case that sexist policies are present in a majority of fields in the Corellian workforce. This is especially true in the clerical field. And regulations are pretty strict about it. Women's suffrage barely applies to Corellian society. At all.

It's disputable as to whether Felicity and her friends and siblings witnessed the absence of women on the _K'Tan_ to be a mite unusual for them…

Education in Corellian society is strictly gender segregated. Due to the nature of raging hormones in males, any attempt at gender integration is highly discouraged, as young females serve as an ultra-powerful source for distraction from schoolwork for young males. Gender segregation also applies to schools of early education (the Kindergarten standard for most children on planet Earth). (It's possible that all forms of education are somewhat permitted in Corellian society.)


	51. Chapter 51

_**Star Trek: The Next Generation – Souvenirs**_

**Written By:**_** Commander Cody CC-2224**_

CHAPTER 51

Because all of the Starfleet personnel on board the _Enterprise_ were far too busy fighting off the shipboard Borg invasion, Lt. Commander Data was forced to resort to recruiting one or two of the colonial children. Of particular interest was the idea of making a sort-of-formal request to Ben, of all people, to accompany him, no doubt on the dangerous mission of possibly retaking the Corellian Battle Cruiser _K'Mar_ and activating its main weapon system to destroy the remaining Borg cubes, which was what Commander Kese was planning on doing since his escape from the already Borg-overrun Corellian battle cruiser. Alongside Data toted a heavy replicated MG-42 Berlin machine gun dating back to the origins of Earth's World War II. Armed with a heavy duffel bag containing replicated M-1 Carbines, a Thompson SMG from the 1930's, a couple of AK-47s, and a handful of Colt M1911s. Included in the duffel bag of a portable weapons cache was the holographic ammunition for these aforementioned real replicated and antiquated weapons. Given the amount of arsenal that Data was already having in possession it could be ascertained that he was without some fair measure of doubt prepared to do some serious fighting against the Borg infestation. The next best thing he needed for the mission was a couple of assistants; first, Commander Kese, since he had in possession of his slightly large head the knowhow of advanced Corellian technology on board the _K'Mar_ in his advanced brain matter, and second, an available and willing sidekick. Somehow Lt. Commander Data knew Ben to be up to the sidekick task, since he was told sometime by Commander La Forge that Ben, having somewhat of a Johnny Tremain personality, was that type of boy who wanted to have a piece of nearly every action involving…of all things, fighting bad guys.

Of course, Ben would not be up against the classic redcoats that often looked tame in children's books about America's history of the War for Independence. Ben would be up against a new but relentless and virulent type of humanoid species that made every attempt to strip themselves of all things human and wear machine parts all over their bodies. Even more dangerous about the Borg was that once Ben was captured, he would have to endure a terrible form of a prisoner-of-war captive; in essence he would literally become one of them. And if Ben became one of them, he would be completely cut off and alienated from the rest of his friends he swore to look after and protect.

But Lt. Commander Data needed an available secondary person to look after his android back, and given that everyone else was too busy minding their own damn business in the battle against the Borg, about the "only" available individual to be his sidekick was…Ben. And so with his objective so clearly framed within his android mind, Data fluently placed his android hand directly on the touch-button of the door chime, thus having the system alert the VIP refugees in the Guest Quarters room to his presence.

The Corellian officer present in the Guest Quarters disengaged the locking mechanism and immediately allowed Data's entry, almost without question, much to the surprise of Felicity and her friends and siblings. Slamming down the duffel bag and unzipping it open it to reveal its seemingly strange but warlike contents, Data then proceeded to making his request in Ben to accompany him on what his android mind hoped Ben would perceive as the most thrilling mission that he ever participated in his teenage years. So Ben, as he was having some sort of yearning to be in the action, willingly volunteered to join the party in the manner of a true gentleman.

"I am going to make an attempt to bring the Corellian cruiser's turbolaser guns online," he declared fluently and a mite tonelessly. "However, every one of the Starfleet personnel on board the _Enterprise_is busy fighting the Borg that they can't spare any one to cover me. I am asking one of you to accompany me."

Commander Kese instantly became a mite surprised. This was what he planned to do from the beginning, and now Data was also planning to do what Kese had in mind in the first place. How was it possible that both Data and Kese had the same objective in mind, even though they never discussed this particular objective in person? Then again, maybe it was all just mere coincidence…

Ben immediately stood up on his own two feet, in response for the volunteer opportunity offered by a Starfleet officer. For him, this seemed to be the moment he was waiting for. And he didn't need to let Felicity's father know of this in person, because Felicity's father wasn't there to make objections about this sort of thing in the first place! With no grownup, aside from Chaplain Garland and Lt. Commander Data, making fairly reasonable objections about Ben's personal safety that were grounded in the superfluities of objective perspectives, Ben decided that this was the time of his life.

"I'll go, sir," he offered, after a moment's consideration.

After a curt, emotionless nod, Data began formally requested the Corellian officer to tag along with him along his newfound group, because he would most likely need him to access and disengage the security protocols aboard the Corellian cruiser, as well as lead the entire group to the cruiser's Main Battle Bridge.

"I am also asking you to accompany us because we'll need you to override the security protocols on board the cruiser," he said to the Corellian officer. "And lead us directly to the cruiser's Main Bridge."

The Corellian officer simply looked at Data like he was crazy or something. "I'm afraid I'm disinclined to acquiesce to your request," he only responded in a smug manner. "And it's the Main _Battle_ Bridge, not the _Main Bridge_!"

Commander Kese's reply was rather surprising because this was what he was intending to do. However, the last thing he expected was an android. Perhaps it wasn't so much the mission as the way Lt. Commander Data asked Commander Kese. If Corellians were ever this conscious of their rank, it would usually be Commander Kese. Besides, Data was rushing this. Kese needed some time to think things through, and Data was pushing him. And a large majority Corellians in general didn't like being pushed; at the very least not by foreigners like Data.

Data only looked at the officer curiously, apparently unaffected by such a response that would normally tick off a good-natured human being. "Are you implying cowardice, sir?" he asked curiously.

"To be blunt, yes," replied Kese. "But it's a fear of something else."

"What sort of fear?" Data queried the officer further.

"The fear of being assimilated," was Kese's reply, and only excuse for refusing to come along.

In a few seconds Felicity was quick to call him a coward. Felicity had gone to great lengths to do semi-heroic things, especially since she was ten years old. How was it that Felicity was relatively fearless, yet the Corellian officer seemed to be rather unwilling to take some personal risks? Not thoroughly understanding, much less attempting to comprehend the aspects behind Commander Kese's reasons for his answers, she decided, much to her fiery redheaded mind, that such a refusal was unprecedented; uncalled for.

"Why, you _are_ a coward, then!" Felicity was quick to conclude rather hotheadedly. "When an enemy attacks you cower in the shelter the guest quarters! When you took us off that vessel you abducted us on, you couldn't even fight the horrid monsters you encountered! You just simply retreated and stuffed us into those tubes we were locked in!"

But Corellian officers didn't take criticism that lightly. In fact, Commander Kese was quick to stand up to her and point out her hotheaded conclusions.

"How dare you imply this, Miss Felicity Merriman!" he snapped quietly, as he sprang to his feet. "Look at yourself, if you very well can! You can afford to criticize me of cowardice because as a girl, or rather a puny human being of the weaker sex, you can very well afford to watch from the sidelines while your friend, Mr. Davidson, is going to fight the Borg! While he, along with me, will be forced to engage in dangerous battle with one of the most ruthless enemies in the galaxy, you _cower_ in your sheltered life and weep like a sissy over his departure, thinking that he'll never come back! And of course, girls with the likes of _you_ can afford to worry about fancy gowns and dance lessons, while we worry about getting our precious body parts shot to pieces!"

Felicity felt her face beginning to redden out of embarrassment. These words seemed to sting her and actually began to have some sort of impact on her outlook of affairs concerning the virtue of bravery. Here she was, a mere human being, criticizing a fairly respectable commander of another humanoid alien race, when she herself hadn't had to escape with her life, just like what Commander Kese had to do to get on board the _Enterprise_ and plan strategy to assist in the battle against the Borg. How could she not put herself into the boots of Commander Kese when she berated him in such a seething manner unwarranted for a girl her age? It was like boldly criticizing her elders! For all her efforts to play serial critic at the Corellian officer, she seemed to overlook something in the officer's own situation: mainly that the officer himself escaped from the _K'Mar_ with his life because he was ordered to. Aside from that, the officer was also ordered to seek assistance from any crew or civilians on board the _Enterprise_.

Also, it became pretty surprising to Felicity's friends and siblings how Commander Kese was able to understand the things that most girls back in Felicity's time wanted in their childhood. Almost unknown to them, except to Ben, who had the opportunity to view Felicity's visual memory log, Commander Kese was able to know this due to the visual memory logs of the five children that Kese viewed some time ago when he was stationed on board the _K'Mar_.And Commander Kese was in some small measure able to use these things…to shame Felicity!

The last thing that Commander Kese expected was a pair of two youngsters; yes, from the very same people that his people brought from their own time. "I was ordered…by my captain…to escape from the _K'Mar_," he said through gritted teeth and fear at the very same time. He left out the part about seeking assistance from any of the _Enterprise_ personnel, which was part of his plans, really. To Kese it was preferable that he let his fear take over his objectivity. But Felicity had no call to judge him prematurely, at least from the Corellian officer's point of view.

"Besides," he continued, "The situation is far more complicated than you _think_!" the Corellian officer interjected further. "If one of our people, including myself, were to be assimilated by the Borg, the Borg will use _our_ knowledge of time travel to disrupt the timeline in order to assimilate other beings from different times!" He abruptly turned his head to face Data. "Mr. Data, I am not going to stand being insulted by this puny human female. I refuse to accompany you, much less her friend, or should I put it quite bluntly, her stuffy lover boy!"

Again, Felicity felt the same surge of embarrassment creeping over her. She took a step up to Data and grabbed one of the Thompsons from Data's duffel bag.

"You're right," she said quite bluntly. To hell with word-mincing; this was a time to be honest, particularly about her damn self. "If I'm going to criticize you of lacking bravery, then perhaps I should be brave as well. I'm going to accompany both of you."

"Lissie, 'tis most improper for a gentlewoman to be engaged in fighting!" Nan protested out loudly.

'Tis not safe, Lissie," Elizabeth tried to counsel her best friend on the cautious side.

"I don't bloody well care," Felicity declared quite crossly. "The last thing I want to be accused of is not practicing what I preach. I've already made my choice."

"Elizabeth is right, Lissie," Ben reminded Felicity. "It isn't safe. Besides, you're still…" He took a deep breath, because what he was going to say was something that Felicity most likely wouldn't like, much less stand to hear about her

"…A bit of a girl," Ben finished in a rather blunt manner.

Felicity flounced back at Ben, snarling furiously at him, her green eyes glaring, and began her heated, snappish retort. "I'm _sick_ of hearing such nonsense from you, Benjamin Davidson! 'Bit of a girl' and all that! Besides, I know bloody well it isn't safe for a girl! At least, from _your_ point of view!"

"Then 'twould do well if you heeded such proverbial advice from a friend," Ben said seriously.

"Nope," Felicity said simply. However her simple, one-word reply was smug. Was she starting to act like Elizabeth's older sister, Annabelle?

"I've already made up my mind." She plaited her wavy, ginger-red hair back to her head, flounced directly at Ben and faced him with great determination. "I'm going with you." As if she had to have her own way.

Ben could only goggle in reaction over Felicity's blatant defiance to the convention of her times. Time and again she'd do things like that, such as at times when Felicity would dress in his breeches and sneak out to see Penny in Mr. Nye's pasture. But for him this was going too far. "Lissie…you _can't_!" he could only say in exclamation out of his own mouth.

"What's to stop me?" Felicity challenged Ben directly. "Hmm?"

"Me," said Ben in a forthright manner. "Your friend. Your sister. Your brother. The Reverend, mayhap."

"I haven't said nothin' in particular," Chaplain Garland quipped. To himself he said, "Save for Miss Elizabeth." The Chaplain in particular didn't think that even children should be viewed as idiots who didn't know any better, but rather as young adults who could think for themselves. Since Ben was the leader of the group, he decided to see for himself what the outcome of the decisions made by Ben and Felicity could be. To him, this was probably another social experiment for him to witness.

"Not even _they_…and _you_…can stop me," Felicity said determinedly to Ben. "I have _no_ intention of sitting helplessly on the sidelines, worrying myself _sick_ over _your_ safety, Benjamin Davidson. Besides, you need all the help you can get."

"No, I don't," said Ben. "I've got Mr. Data, and that alien creature-man."

Felicity knew that she would have to approach Ben a mite gently if she was to not only calm him down but also persuade him to let her go with him. "Mayhap, an extra helping hand would help in case something happens to them," said Felicity calmly, as if she was trying to be sweet on Ben, just like Elizabeth's older sister Annabelle was, which both Felicity and Elizabeth were quick to tease about. Then she suddenly changed her sweet demeanor to a serious one, which was reflected in her very face. "God forbid," she finished rather quietly.

Suddenly Chaplain Garland couldn't help being amused by Felicity's seeming bambi-like pleading. "This is fun to watch," he muttered to himself in sheer amusement.

But Ben, primarily out of concern for the safety and well-being of Felicity and less about the conventions of his time could not and would not let himself be swayed by Felicity's attempts to persuade him sweetly. "Lissie, no," he said with great conviction and earnestness, in his internal struggle to exhibit himself as a figure of authority to her as, as he was the eldest boy. "This…is foolhardy. As a gentleman, I object strongly against this."

But Felicity was still determined. She herself had done plenty of boneheaded things like walking on fences, attempting unsuccessfully to tame a wild horse before she got Penny, and warning the colonists in her hometown of Williamsburg about the theft of the gunpowder by Lord Dunmore's men. Why did she have to be inexplicably uninvited to participate in fighting against Borg drones? After all, she was a girl who wants to be in the middle of the action. And she kind of hated missing it out.

But then, Ben would need someone with him, in case he ran into a helpless situation, especially if Data and Kese get put out of commission.

"Object all you want!" spat Felicity, still refusing to allow herself to be let down, even by Ben. "I'm still coming with you anyway. _We_ need you. _I_ need you. What will become of us if we lose you?"

But Ben waved off Felicity as if she was a great and terrible annoyance to him.

"You are such an inconsiderate boy, Ben Davidson!" Felicity excoriated him with great indignation. "What is this to you anyway? Is it _playtime_?"

"No!" Ben exclaimed in the same indignant manner as Felicity did to him.

"Does all this have something to do with satisfying a part in you that yearns to make up for lost opportunities you could have had, ever since I convinced you to abandon your foolhardy attempts to run away from your apprenticeship with Father to join Washington's army?" Felicity asked him loudly.

Ben was somewhat stopped cold in his tracks.

"Yes! Well…No!" Ben stammered rather hesitantly, unsure of his own self, unsure of his answer. "No, it doesn't!"

"You're _not_ being honest with me, Ben," Felicity said crossly to him. She could almost tell if Ben was not being honest with her at all. It was how she knew him. "I really think it does."

"To Hades with what you think in all your girlish, sixth-sense presumptions!" Ben cut in quite rudely. "I'm still gonna say, "No"! Then to himself, as an aside, he muttered, "Besides, you're _still_ a bit of a girl for this."

Felicity immediately perked her head up over hearing Ben's muttering. "I heard that!" she snapped. Then she sighed crossly to Ben. "I think I'm just as capable as you are, Benjamin Davidson."

"So you say," Ben scoffed, while having his arms crossed. He stole a glance at Elizabeth, Nan, and William, all grouped together. Chaplain Garland was still seated on the desk chair, and Commander Kese still had his arms crossed as he stood up. "What about Lizzie…and your siblings…Lissie?"

"I can watch over them, Ben," Elizabeth spoke up right away, taking one step forward with her right foot. For Felicity, It felt pretty heartening for Elizabeth to act like an older sister for her Felicity's siblings.

"But even so…!" Ben was about to interject. He scratched his head skeptically. "Lissie…I don't think your loved ones…much less your Father and Mother…is going to like this." He heaved a sigh and exhaled slowly. "You're asking for trouble."

This assertion seemed to have the capability to affect Felicity's heartstrings. Right now she was already finding herself missing her Father and Mother. She could even remember Ben saying this to her. In fact, she could even remember several versions of this statement being repeated to her over again because her stubborn personality was what was almost constantly putting her Mother especially on the edge.

"Mother and Father, as you say, don't even exist in this time," she said to herself quite sadly and sarcastically at the same time. "And not Elizabeth's Mother and Father, either." It sounded somewhat callous to say, but that was the truth. Mr. and Mrs. Merriman were not here to make objections about their daughter going on a perilous mission to save humanity from the clutches of the Borg.

"I'm older than you are, Lissie, so you have to do as I say," said Ben.

"And I'm the daughter of the owner of one of Williamsburg's finest shops, so _you_ have to do as _I_ say!" she retorted quite crossly.

"Says who?" challenged Ben.

"Says me!"

"Well, your Father's not here to give the orders, so _I'm_ in charge," Ben pressed further.

"You can kick and scream and drag me to another place, Ben, and I'm still coming with you, whether you like it or not," said Felicity. "Because…I still care about you. Besides…"

For Ben this was too much. Felicity was going too far. In a fit of self-righteous rage he cut in immediately. "I CAN'T LOSE YOU, LISSIE!" he yelled at the top of his lungs.

Ben bowed his head in frustration and shame over what he already did to her. In response Felicity only gave him a hard, serious, demure look.

"I can't. I just can't," said Ben in a quiet, lowered tone of voice which was almost close to sounding like muttering to himself. "Not even soldier-Ben is strong enough to face the imminent loss of spunky, sprightly Felicity Merriman."

Felicity still kept her head hung. But something told her that she should wake Ben out of his personal stupor and tell him straight that she would be with him every step of the way, if she could, and whenever she could. She took Ben's right hand and squeezes it gently in affection. And she flashed her sweet smile. The smile that could literally melt the heart of any boy. It touched Ben deeply at the innermost depth of his heart. He slowly formed his face to smile back at her, and Felicity responded with all the beauty and charm that she could ever radiate.

"Ben, if we work together on this,…you will not have to be," Felicity said to him gently and understandingly.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Ben interjected.

Felicity squeezed both of Ben's hands, just to soften him up a bit. "It means…that if both of us are together, we can have a chance of giving Mr. Data…and the other fellow…Kese…if you will…all the help they need in order to do whatever they have to do," she said to him.

"But we're just there…to give them cover," said Ben.

"Even so…I wouldn't miss it for the world," said Felicity. "If we're together on this…we have a chance." She stole one glance across the room. "All of us…will have a chance."

That particular dramatic moment could have lasted a mite longer if everyone was not so much in a hurry, but the contrary seems to be the case. Data had to interrupt this mild romantic mood.

"Are you finished?" asked Data rather tactlessly.

"For the most part," she finished right away with a rather exasperated sigh.

Data continues supplicating the Corellian officer to accompany him.

"Sir, it is imperative that you come with us," said he. "You'll be needed to access the security protocols on board the cruiser in order to deactivate the autodestruct system and activate the cruiser's turbo-lasers. If we don't bring those turbo-lasers online, the Enterprise will be completely assimilated by the Borg, and so will the Corellian vessel, in which case the Borg will utilize whatever important knowledge you have on time traveling in order to seriously alter earth's timeline."

The disgruntled Corellian officer agreed. _What choice do I have anyway?_ he asked his own self. Now that not only two, but three people, were able and willing to help him get the job done, he might as well take the opportunity.

"Very well," he said. "But I warn you that if the Borg assimilate me, or you, or the girl, we're all are going to be in very big trouble, including myself."

Felicity beamed at him.

"I have my security keycard and the access codes," Kese offered. "However, there will be Borg presence on board. We will need a few charges to open the doors in case the Borg sealed them."

Data slapped down the heavy duffel bag after toting it during what seemed to be an indefinitely long time and unzipped it open in a nimble manner. Unzipping another section of the bag's interior, the contents revealed, aside from the weapons and ammunition in the main sections, a few isomagnetic disintegrators used for breaching doors., along with several magazines for the weapons.

Before leaving, the children embraced each other dearly. First, Felicity embraced her younger sister and brother, squeezing them tight, as if this would be the last she would ever see them again. Then she cast her motherly gaze at them.

"Be good, all right?" she asked them both. Both Nan and William nodded in assent.

Then Felicity embraced Elizabeth. "Please look after them for me," she pleaded with her best friend. Felicity's countenance was almost sad, for she hated leaving them, and so was Elizabeth's. But staying true to her convictions, Felicity decided to let go, but hoped within her eleven-year-old heart that this letting go would not take so long, for her sake and for theirs.

"You'll need to take off that dress if you're going to run a little faster," Ben reminded Felicity.

Felicity removed the dress, revealing her modest undergarment covering, or her shift. Elizabeth, Nan, and William react shocked.

"There. Now I feel a little more flexible," said Felicity, feeling more relieved than ever about her newfound sense of freedom regarding the convention of a young lady's dress.

Only Elizabeth and Nan shook their heads. Elizabeth embraced her best friend and squeezes her tight. Then they look at each other.

"Look after the others. Please?" Felicity pleaded with her best friend.

Elizabeth nodded a solemn and serious nod. She felt like she was going to cry. All of a sudden the responsibility of being the eldest child to both Nan and William was suddenly slapped upon her shoulders. Elizabeth was so used to being the youngest in her family. Now all of sudden she was the eldest. Never before in her life had she ever had a taste of what it would be like to be completely the eldest child when Ben and Felicity would be absent from the little group. Now she had it.

But aside from all that, her worry was about Felicity's safety. She did not know when she could see Felicity and Ben again. In addition to that also, Elizabeth had little Nan and William to look after. Poor her. She was now overwhelmed.

Elizabeth took a deep breath, knowing that she would make a pledge to look after Felicity's two siblings as faithfully as she could. "I will," she promised solemnly, looking again up to her best friend. "Lissie…you and Ben…and the others…be safe. All right?"

"Aye," promised Felicity slowly and surely.

After a touching exchange of hugs with the rest of the children, Felicity and Ben accompanied Data and the Corellian officer and leave the Guest Quarters. Elizabeth stayed behind with Nan and William and the Chaplain.

* * *

Lt. Commander Data, Corellian Bridge Commander Kese, Felicity, and Ben made their hurried rush across the Deck 10 corridor. Armed with a replicated Remington 700 shotgun, along with his replicated MG-42 heavy machine gun, Data he fired up to six shots against four Borg drones that were in the way. Another six shots were fired at a fresh batch of Borg drones that were making their stealthy approach behind this newfound assault team.

Commander Kese fired off a handful of disruptor shots at incoming Borg drones. Both Ben and Felicity, however, were a bit too clueless on how to fire their weapons.

"Do not bother," said Data to Ben and Felicity. "Our focus is getting to Transporter Room 8. It is the nearest transporter room from Deck 10, two decks down. And still fully functional."

Coming across a corridor, Data fired four shots at four Borg drones that were walking up to Data himself. Giving the all-clear, the group followed Data's lead into another section of the Deck 10 corridor. They continued on until Data hit upon a hatch at that particular section of the corridor itself.

"Where are we going?" asked Ben.

"Jeffries tube," answered Data himself.

"Can't we go up that…that _'lift'_ thing'?" asked Felicity.

"Too risky," said Data. Power to the main turbolift may be cut off. We shall have to take a longer approach if we are to avoid getting trapped inside the turbolift. Come on."

When the group reached the hub of the Jeffries tube network, the four party members made their hasty but pretty steadied descent on a ladder shaft. They continued their descent two decks down until they reached Deck 12.

"This way!" called Data loudly. As the leader of this little group, he was the first to venture into the intended destination of the left-hand corridor of the Jeffries tube network. The rest followed suit, crawling through the tube itself. For modern children, it would have been nothing more than imagining oneself crawling through a play tunnel. But for both Felicity and Ben this was just yet another unusual adventure through a strange plastic tunnel.

"Keep moving!" ordered Data.

"This gun is hurting…my back," panted Felicity.

"Well, you wanted to come along!" argued Ben. "Why are _you_ complaining?"

"Because I _can_, and I _will_!" answered Felicity hotly and crankily at the same time.

The group sped on through the Jeffries tube until they reached the hatch area. Data pried the hatch open and led the group into the middle of the corridor of Deck 12. This was the nearest Transporter Room from their current location on the ship.

The surroundings of Deck 12 were filled with commotion. It was bad enough both Felicity and Ben had to squeeze and push their way through crew personnel firing their replicated weapons at Borg drones. Even more dangerous was the presence of Borg drones with their nanotubes ready to assimilate any unsuspecting human being on contact. Ben fired as many shots as he could afford from his M1 Carbine, and Felicity clumsily did the same thing with her Thompson SMG. However, the clumsiness of handling an automatic firearm as foreign as a machine gun was getting to the point of possible serious injury that Ben had to tell Felicity to just not bother firing her gun. Bravery was needed to get through this mess, but so were brains.

Immediately Data eyed the readings of his fully functional tricorder. "We are approximately eleven kilometers from Transporter Room 8," he informed. Pumping his Remington he walked briskly to the right side of the corridor relative to facing the hatch area. Then he immediately tapped his combadge rather daintily.

"Data to O'Brien," he called.

"Go ahead, Leftenant Data," replied Transporter Chief Miles O'Brien on the comm.

"I have a small assault party that is preparing to board the Corellian Battle Cruiser _K'Mar_," he informed promptly. "I request your presence in Transporter Room 8. We need someone to beam us aboard the cruiser."

"Right away, Leftenant," O'Brien answered promptly on the comm. "O'Brien out."

Data scanned his tricorder again. "I detect five foreign life signs," he informed. "All Borg. Take cover."

Guns at the ready, Felicity, Ben, and Commander Kese stayed put behind the corner of the corridor. Upon encountering the Borg pretty stealthily, Data trained his sights on the lead Borg drone. Then slowly and steadily squeezing the trigger like it was nothing at all, he fired a single shot.

The lead Borg drone received a single shotgun round which busted the front of his chest area. Sparks flew from where the shrapnel burst through his body and he dropped dead to the corridor carpet floor, unconcious.

Commander Kese was the first to intervene in the situation. Training his Corellian disruptor rifle as fast as he could at any of the Borg drones he could catch his sights on, he fired two shots. Another drone down.

Then Ben and Felicity were the next to intervene. As a result of her clumsiness with handling the Thompson SMG, she had great difficulty steadying the firearm when it came to firing off the weapon at full auto setting. Ben, on the other hand, seemed to be fairly adept with firing his Springfield M1 Carbine, thanks to training himself to firing the ancient but futuristic-to-him Mauser rifle in Holodeck 2, before Elizabeth rudely interrupted him, at least from his own point of view. But Ben was a rookie, as this handling of a modern firearm, even if it was ancient in 24th century standards, was only the beginning of becoming briefly acquainted with new technological wonders of war. Aiming pretty carefully despite the bulkiness of the weapon itself, he managed to squeeze a handful of shots at three Borg drones.

However, Ben accidentally hit Data with a single shot. Because the projectile was real, it drilled through Data's android back, specifically near his right shoulder. Both Ben and Felicity were surprised that Data wasn't bleeding; he couldn't bleed because he was just an android! A shot like that done to a human would have been fatal back in Felicity's and Ben's day because it was not only the serious bleeding that would have had to be taken into account; it was also the possibility of serious infection, which would make a person bedridden, possibly indefinitely. Not only that, there was the strong medical possibility of having one's spinal cord shattered, thus incapacitating the person for life, as the nerve connectors from the brain to the rest of the bodily motor functions of the human body would be severed as well. With Lt. Commander Data, however, he seemed to be taking it pretty well, and was even pretty emotionless about it. What was left of this incident of unintentional friendly fire, however, was a bullet gap drilled into his android back.

But even if he was an android, as Felicity and her friends and siblings no doubt knew from the start of their stay on board the _Enterprise_, Felicity decided that it would at least be fairly courteous to ask him if he was at the very least all right.

"Are you all right?" asked Felicity pretty confidently.

"Yes, ma'am," replied Data rather casually. "Might I inquire as to who fired the shot?"

"I...I did," admitted Ben rather hesitantly. He hung his head. Even if it was an android he accidentally shot at, he could not help wondering if he would unintentionally repeat a fatal mistake like this when it came to a real live human being in combat action. Feeling pretty stupid, he asked, "Did you get hurt?"

"I am an android," Data replied simply. "I cannot feel pain. Your projectile from the replicated M1 Carbine just drilled into my back, near my right hand. Fortunately, the projectile was too small, however, to penetrate vital bio-functions near my arm in order to cripple my right arm."

Felicity was too surprised that Data managed to take an injury serious for a human so casually, like as though it was just simply nothing at all. But Felicity's deep musings were interrupted abruptly when Data urged the rest of the group to continue moving.

"Let's get moving," he said simply. "We are approximately five meters to Transporter Room 8."

The group of four continued moving through the corridor until they reached Transporter Room 8. Data was the first to enter, and the rest followed suite.

Felicity became quite surprised that Chief Miles O'Brien has managed to get to Transporter Room 8 that quickly. Whom should they find…but Chief Miles O'Brien.

"How…how did you manage to get in here?" she asked the Transporter Chief in a rather surprised manner, feeling nervous at the very same time.

Miles O'Brien was even more surprised, since he was pretty used to seeing people being accustomed to seeing the operation of transporters. "I used the transporters, Miss," he said, baffled at Felicity's seemingly "unusual" but blunt and frank question. "How else would I be able to get my own self to this Transporter Room as quickly as I could?" Then he cast his friendly brown eyes at both Felicity and Ben, and then turned his head over to Lt. Commander Data. "What? _You_ brought those two _kids_ along? Are you _out_ of your android _mind_?"

"They merely volunteered," said Data fluently in a rather emotionless manner, as was his usual way of speaking. Then, to get back to business, Data said, "Is the transporter ready?"

"Yes, sir," replied O'Brien. The four then promptly stepped into the transporter, with Data at the front, Commander Kese on Data's right hand side, and Felicity and Ben on Data's left hand side.

"Energize," commanded Data.

An intense field of sky-blue sparkles surrounded the entire assault party, and they dematerialized off the transporter, like faeries disappearing into pixie dust.

"That was quick," O'Brien quipped to himself in a rather sarcastic remark.

* * *

Author's Notes

I happened to have the gut feeling that some readers might get confused over Commander Kese's reply to Lt. Commander Data asking him to accompany him in reactivating the main weapon system on the Corellian Battle Cruiser _K'Mar_. It may be possible that Kese was just making excuses, since perhaps he wanted more time to himself on planning his own little strategies, and Data, as mentioned, was pushing him in a rather untimely manner for Commander Kese himself. Or perhaps fear overtook and greatly interfered with his objectivity.

Unusually the dialogue became so cheesy for me to read in my drafts that I literally became squeamish just actually reading the entire damn chapter. In the past, so many words and phrases just kept a-coming to my active imaginary mind that I just had to type them on my old DELL laptop computer before they evaporated too quickly. After that I could have the luxury of "studying" them and changing them at whim.

Some of my light sarcasm had to complement the elements of "cheesiness" that I think were pervasive to the not-so-clunky atmosphere of the story that I wanted to portray.


	52. Chapter 52

_**Star Trek: The Next Generation – Souvenirs**_

**Written By:**_** Commander Cody CC-2224**_

CHAPTER 52

Chaplain Garland loaded and manually cocked a Kalashnikov AKM and handed that strange firearm over to Elizabeth. No doubt she was absolutely perplexed by the firearm itself. Aside from the perplexity, she was also afraid. Because she was very much afraid of war, especially battle, she almost perceived it as another killing machine.

"What is _this_?" asked Elizabeth rather curiously in a baffled manner, eyes widened, as she stole one long curious glance at the Kalashnikov firearm she was now holding in the palms of both her hands.

"AK-47," replied Chaplain Garland. "AKM, technically. Also known as the Kalashnikov. Made by some firearms inventor from Russia, probably back in '47, if I recall correctly, assuming my memory ain't too screwed. Don't a-bother with the stupid Russky acronym."

Elizabeth tried to pronounce these strange words foreign to her native English tongue. "Ka-lash-ni-…" Then her mind wandered around a bit over the strangeness and uniqueness of the firearm itself. "Strange…" she said to herself rather quietly.

"Long history, darlin'," the Chaplain said to her rather briskly. "What's gonna matter right now is its operation, as we now face before our very eyes the imminent possibility of those damn Borg drones barging in without so much as a simple invitation and gutting us out from flesh to bone and head to toe with their 'oh-so-cool' and 'oh-so-special' implants. That gun's so damn simple, even a five-year-old can fire it."

"_I'm_ five years old," William put in rather precociously, in the hopes of being able to get a taste of firing the weapon.

But the Chaplain didn't think that William's life should be in unnecessary danger from injury due to firearm accidents, since he of all ordinary people, shipboard chaplains included, was entrusted to his charge. "Sorry, man," the Chaplain had to tell him. "I don't see the need for being blamed for another Temporal Prime Directive violation." He gave the matter some thought, though he couldn't let William handle the Kalashnikov. "Damn myself if I ever let that fact slip from my jabbering mouth," he muttered to himself in frustration. "Actually, I think I may have changed my mind a bit," he said to himself with a mischievous grin.

Now William was starting to act just like his eldest sister. "I wanna go!" he pleaded. "Please?"

"It's a dangerous world outside the relative shelter of this Guest Quarters," the Chaplain only replied to him half-cynically.

But even William would not let himself be put down by the Chaplain's reply. "Ben and Lissie have gone," he told him, hoping that the Chaplain would change his mind. "I would be…"

"…Ashamed to get left out from all the fun, eh?" Garland finished abruptly for him.

William nodded. The Chaplain, however, brushed the whole thing off with a simple little snort.

"William wants to go; I have to accompany him. But at the same time, I can't leave you all here out alone. You're sure you wanna do this, Willy?"

William nodded again, but this time bravely and somewhat determinedly, like his eldest sister. But little Nan begged to differ.

"William, you _can't_!" Nan scolded her little brother. "Ben and Lissie have gone; you _won't_ be the next! I…I won't _let_ you!" And she clung to William's arm as tight as she could with her little arms, as if trying desperately in her own little way to hold him back from venturing foolishly into danger.

"Hmm…" mused Chaplain Garland, seeming somewhat amused over the scene of fuss that little Nan was making over William. "I guess even his second-to-the-eldest sister has her won little objections to make…" Then he decided to talk to Nan.

"Nan, you remember being in the entertainment holodeck?" he asked Nan.

Nan nodded her little head. But it was just an affirmative nod made by the fact that she either had little to no control of her situation or that the situation that she was in was so horrifying that anything that the Chaplain was suggesting would help her and her friends.

"I need ya to be my little helmslady."

Nan immediately widened her eyes. There was probably some shred of gleam of excitement in them, too, because this would be the very first time that little Nan would play a crucial part in the battle of the Corellian Sector against the dastardly Borg.

"What about the Reverend?" squeaked Elizabeth.

"I'll think o' somethin' on the way," promised Chaplain Garland in a rather casual manner, as if he always had something for someone to do up his clerical garb sleeve.

Then he turned to William. "So….you be a-comin', Willy?" he asked him. "Or not?" he added with a descent of inflection in his tone of voice.

William nodded his little head.

"That's gotta be the bravest, if not the most foolish-est nod I've ever seen before," Chaplain Garland remarked unto himself.

Chaplain Garland prepared and loaded the firearms as Elizabeth took sheer curious notice at him. The Chaplain plopped a heavy duffel bag and unzipped the bag in a very prompt manner. The duffel bag was cylindrical in shape, with a length of three feet and width of two feet, with a height two-thirds the height of little Nan. Then the Chaplain roughly set a Russian RPD light machine gun on the desk chair, cocked, and un-cocked it to test the weapon for its readiness.

Elizabeth was shocked, and so was little Nan, as she peered along with Elizabeth to get a glimpse of some heavy machine gun ammo. Never before in their lives did they ever get a glimpse of a firearm that was so advanced in exterior and interior design than the Brown Bess. Its design was almost "skeletal". The firearm did certainly have the look and feel of a firearm that just came out of the assembly line, and it had a rather "cheap" look to it; but that that was how most Russian-made firearms had. A firearm like that could almost reflect how a large majority of Russian manufacturers gave so much emphasis on quantity than on quality (as if quality was quite a luxury for Russian firearms manufacturers) when it came to manufacturing hundreds upon hundreds of war products. The RPD's "cheapness" also semed to have something to do with lowered maintenance and its associated labor costs, hence the possible underlying reason behind its "simplicity".

The RPD light machine gun was said to be the most efficient light machine gun developed at least five centuries ago back in the U.S.S.R.. Said to be the precursor of most ancient American-made Squad Automatic Weapons (SAWs), it could deliver quite a powerful punch at a high rate of firepower. The RPD saw its inception at the latter part of the Second World War but for some inexplicable reason never entered major production until after the War.

In Chaplain Garland's case the replicated version of the RPD possessed a brand-new look to it, most likely due to its polished maple buttstock and frame, as well as its highly polished metal parts painted in shiny gloss black. Its barrel structure looked like a multi-pole structure of the folded legs of a music stand. The weapon itself did not seem to have much of a hi-tech look and feel that most 21st century soldiers might be accustomed to, but the RPD was hi-tech for its day, even if its Russian manufacturers seemed to be a bit too cheap in their firearms manufacturing back in the Second World War.

Now Chaplain Garland would use this weapon against Borg drones. Because the machine gun itself had the weight of two heavy backpacks filled with college textbooks, the Chaplain would have to treat it as a fire-from-the-hip weapon if he was going to sling the replicated strap over his right shoulder. No doubt the Chaplain had some sort of passing interest in James Cameron's ancient 21st century film of _Terminator 3: Rise of the Machines_ that he derived the idea of how he was going to wield his kickass RPD based on how Terminator wielded a heavy machine gun during a police encounter.

"What…what's all this for?" Elizabeth asked rather worriedly and inquisitively at the same time. "Is it for…" She trailed off, feeling pretty frightened over what Chaplain Garland was going to do next. Was the Chaplain himself going to recklessly lead her and her friend's siblings into imminent peril beyond her eleven-year-old imagination? Was he going to disregard her safety and welfare and that of the siblings of her best friend? Was the whole stint being made just to satisfy the Chaplain's own personal ego, that is, was the whole stint ego-driven? If such were the cases, then Elizabeth had better brace herself from what was to come and look after Nan and William as best as she could for her age if the Chaplain were to take things a little too far from what she and Nan and William could tolerate for their young ages.

"Well, it seems…that young William here…has as much eagerness for fame and glory at such a young age…as I do for kicking some cyborg ass," the Chaplain replied rather casually.

"And pray, what do you mean, Reverend?" Elizabeth pressed further.

"It means, sweetie, that we're gonna make a run for the Main Bridge and see if we can surprise the Borg outta their wits, since there don't seem to be nobody else available to handle the job," said the Chaplain. "All of everyone's got their hands full already trying to keep those dastardly drones at bay on board this frickin' vessel."

"But…with you being a Reverend…, wouldn't Scripture have anything to say about…_killing_?" Elizabeth asked rather curiously with a grimace in her pretty face. The reason for such a question being asked, notwithstanding mere curiosity, pretty much lay behind the type of religious background that Elizabeth was brought up in during the early days of her childhood. Back in her day most Christians in general, not all, but most, held some sort of a doctrine that had something to do with "turning the other cheek" when it came to confronting one's foes. Accordingly this doctrine originated from one of the teachings of Jesus of Nazareth to his followers, and supposedly the reasoning behind such a seemingly pacifistic doctrine lay in the historical assertion that it would have been futile to resist the semi-tyranny of Roman rule. Of course the early Christians, taking such a teaching so literally to the point of loss of physical resistance against oppression and persecution, emphasized the meaning to imply kindness not only to their friends but also to their foes as well, and such a teaching was even extended to include doing no harm to even one's worst enemies, even the ones that posed a serious threat to the existence of humanity.

It was probably thanks to the Just War doctrines of St. Augustine of Hippo that some Christians later on toned down what would have been perceived in the minds of secular people as the most pacifistic doctrine ever taught in human and Church history by the Son of God. Some Christians took on the viewpoint of fighting for one's convictions and one's country, and even one's independence, just like in the case of Chaplain Garland. This probably spurred the Crusade campaigns of the 12 and 13th centuries and possibly the religious wars that devastated most of Europe during the 15th and 16th centuries, when both Roman Catholic and Protestant Christians were fighting each other to death, all in the name of religion and their convictions, hence the Wars for Religion. If the teaching of "turning the other cheek" was taken to an extent by the American colonists during the American War for Independence, it would probably be unlikely that the American colonists would have won the war. Then came the American Confederate army general Robert E. Lee, who demonstrated a shining example of kindness even to the enemies he had to fight, but that was because he was fighting fellow Americans and not foreign enemies

Minor controversy arose among Christian theologians over this particular doctrine, and some Christian lay people decided to just simply disregard the teaching altogether, or just simply treat the doctrine as a whole as just something applicable to peacetime but probably not to wartime situations, due to the dangers of lack of personal vigilance against the enemies of God, Church, and humanity. All in all, because Elizabeth, being eleven years of age, was not particularly well-versed in the nuances of biblical philosophy, she had the impression her mindset of taking Scripture somewhat literally was a bit contradicted. And she certainly was going to have a hell of a "contradiction" from the Chaplain himself.

Chaplain Garland only chuckled lightly to himself over the very question that Elizabeth was asking him. "You know, I gave some thought to that since my seminary days, but then I thought, the hell with it," he said. "Perhaps it ain't God's way, but if it were, I wouldn't be a whole lot surprised if most of the good people died off the face of the earth…possibly the universe…as a result."

Chaplain Garland carefully loaded a single ammo belt into the left hand side of the RPD belt feed. This he did before resuming his semi-soliloquy.

""God gave each and everyone of us the instinctual means of survival; I say we make use of 'em."

"But, Reverend…what does this have to do with risking our lives to get to the Bridge?" asked Elizabeth.

Chaplain Garland finally cocked his machine gun. "You're gonna find out soon enough, darlin'."

Then he thought of more things to explain to Elizabeth further. "You might as well ponder on the seeming hopelessness of the situation," the Chaplain continued a bit tactlessly. "But you know what, Lizzie? If you and I are gonna die for the name of Christ, we might as well do it while creating as many casualties as we can against the goddamn enemies of Christ." With that, donned on his Kevlar vest, then picked up his hand-held TEC-DC9 automatic pistol and cocked it for readiness. He also double-checked that his machine gun was strapped on his right side is loaded. He seemed more than ready to kick ass, that's for sure.

"I don't know," said Elizabeth in a rather uncertain manner. "Sometimes…I just can't help remembering our Lord saying something about…loving our enemy…"

"Well, that sort of thing depends greatly on your point of view, sweetheart," the Chaplain put in right away in his attempt to remove whatever doubt about fighting for one's life out of the bottom of Elizabeth's uncertain mind. "Besides," he continued, "The Borg ain't all that cuddly and lovable, if ya think about it."

Chaplain Garland poised himself directly at the Guest Quarters entranceway, which now led to the way out, from the temporary safety of the Guest Quarters to the dangerous and battle-ridden corridors of the Borg-plagued _Enterprise_. "Stick close together," he commanded. He then clicked back his strapped-up machine-gun. "Time for some thrilling heroics."

All four immediately took their hurried leave from the Guest Quarters, bracing themselves in the face of imminent danger of capture and assimilation.

* * *

Chaplain Garland, Elizabeth, Nan, and William raced through the crowded battle-laden corridors in search of the main turbolift leading up to the Main Bridge. Nan accidentally tripped over her gown's skirt, so the Chaplain was forced to pick her up and put her over his burly shoulders as a result. This was while he had to hold Nan and shoot Borg drones, too. Elizabeth grabs hold of William's left arm.

The halls were filled with Starfleet personnel shooting Borg drones with replicated weapons and holographic ammo.

Chaplain Garland heard a clicking sound. He had run out of ammo.

"Lizzie! Unzip my duffel bag and gemme another bandolier!" he yelled in the midst of the deafening crossfire.

"Where?" screamed Elizabeth frantically.

"Left side, top right!" the Chaplain shouted back rather heatedly.

Fumbling around in a desperate attempt to get the Chaplain's ammo, Elizabeth managed to find a zipper. She streaked over the zipper line, ripping the bag partially open.

"Cylinder one!" shouted the Chaplain.

While Elizabeth was busy plunging her dainty hands into the ammo collection, Chaplain Garland pulled out a high-capacity TEC-DC9 sidearm and fired the weapon at a couple of approaching Borg drones. Bullets started popping at high velocity and at such a higher rate of fire. He unleashed several rounds until the Borg drones had their parts flying and dropped dead. Elizabeth, Nan, and William instinctively covered their ears. In the midst of the ultra-loud gung-ho gun battle, Elizabeth handed the Chaplain his machine gun drum magazine.

"Thanks, lady!" the Chaplain replied gratefully but hastily.

Chaplain Garland ejected the empty magazine and shoved the loaded one in. Then he exposed himself in full view of the Borg drones and immediately started opening fire at the drone with several bursts from his RPD machine gun strapped on his right side, just like from his favorite ancient 21st century movie _Terminator 3_, shooting the Borg drones. His gun made short work of the Borg drones as they started getting mowed down. Elizabeth instinctively dropped the Kalashnikov and covered both her ears because the gunshots were so loud for her, as she was nearest the Chaplain, who was at this point firing the weapon. Any drones that were in the way of Chaplain Garland and his temporal charges were reckoned thoroughly.

"Clear!" the Chaplain called out.

Chaplain Garland and the children then headed off to another corridor. He shot Borg like crazy with his machine gun wherever he goes. Friendly fire was also an imminent and often scary possibility, but the Chaplain did the best he could to allay that possibility, much to the relief of some of the crew personnel the group managed to pas by in feverish haste.

The Chaplain then herded the children into the main turbolift and they were all off. Elizabeth, Nan, and William seemed to be slightly enjoying the thrill of the ride. Elizabeth found herself looking up rather obsessively, tilting her head.

Then suddenly a violent jolt nearly shook the little group of four off their feet. The turbolift experienced a shutdown after only ascending eight levels up. To make matters worse, the lights went out.

"Aw, damn," muttered the Chaplain disappointedly. Most likely he was just disappointed, rather than scared, though tinges of fear were creeping all around him over the nightmare of being trapped in the turbolift while the fight was going on. Perhaps he was foolish to even suggest taking the turbolift in the midst of perilous situations, but wanting to get things done quickly, he decided that the turbolift was the fastest route.

But with fast routes came the risks of being trapped. But his reasons for taking the turbolift were beyond simply to take fast routes. He was only half-familiar with the ship, as he had only been on the _Enterprise _for only a few months, and he thought the turbolift was the familiar route to him. He also knew full well that if he had to ask some stray crew personnel, they would be asking too many questions as to why he had three children with him, of whom many would be considering them liabilities in his quest to save the ship.

Chaplain Garland wasted no time. Fishing out a glow-stick, he managed to find the manual lever that removed the roof. Turning it counterclockwise, he managed to pry open a roof panel downward. The top part of the panel revealed little ladder steps, which was feasible for turbolift maintenance crew.

"I'll go first," said the Chaplain. "That way, if I manage to reach the top first, I can help you all up one at a time when you're like a foot below. All right."

Elizabeth nodded her head in agreement. So did Nan and William.

"All right. Let's get to it."

Chaplain Garland took the first ladder step up to the roof of the main turbolift itself. When he got up the roof he looked around. He managed to find the ladder of the main turbolift shaft, which was right next to the open ceiling panel of the main turbolift.

"Found it, folks!" the Chaplain called.

Elizabeth made her climb up from the disabled turbolift and onto the turbolift roof. Chaplain Garland helped her up. Nan and William followed next and the Chaplain lent the same assistance to the two little mites that he lent to Elizabeth.

"Gonna be a long climb," warned the Chaplain. With his heavy duffel bag carried over his shoulders, and the durable black tough leather straps arranged over his shoulder along with his heavy machine gun, the Chaplain became the first to make his upward climb up the turbolift shaft ladders. . Then Elizabeth, Nan, and William followed suit.

The children had never witnessed someone who could tote a heavy duffel bag over his shoulders while making such a long strenuous climb up a long ladder. To them it was such an an astonishing sight; one that in their day was to be found almost only in legendary bible stories. If they ever witnessed redcoats marching on the streets of Williamsburg, the only gear they carried were tent cloth, food, clothes, and some Brown Bess ammunition along with a measure of gunpowder. The Chaplain, on the other hand, was toting several pounds worth of machine gun ammo and small arms and their ammo components. This heavy weight was almost similar to the standard 70-lb gear of the 21st century American Army soldier or Marine.

"That backpack's so heavy, how are you able to carry it?" asked an astonished Elizabeth.

"Yes, it looks so heavy," said Nan. "I don't think Ben can carry a bag like that all by himself."

"That's not exactly true," said Elizabeth. Ben's so strong. And it's not because Lissie, or Mother and Father said so."

"Well, folks, I was in the army," said the Chaplain quite bluntly. "That's what the Maquis did to fresh recruiters. They'd force 'em to tote 70 lbs of gear and make ya run ten bloody miles, upward and downward 'round the rough dirt training grounds. That went true even with steep slope-y areas as wellI went a-huffin' and a-huffin' till I couldn't huff no more 'fore I collapsed on the rough dirt ground, totally exhausted from carrying 70 lbs of shit gear. In fact, my exhaustion was so great that they _literally_ had to send in a couple of emergency response personnel, medics, in this 'ticular sense, to revive me using CPR. Mind ya, I was in the habit of giving my utmost to his Highest."

"What does _that_ mean?" asked little Nan, not quite sure as to what the Chaplain meant by that.

"Means that I was in the habit of giving my best. To God. Leastways from my point of view."

* * *

Battle Bridge, _U.S.S. Enterprise_…

On the view-screen, Picard and the bridge personnel witnessed gravimetric torpedoes pummeling the Constitution Class starship.

"_Reagan_'s been hit!" exclaimed Lt. Bates.

* * *

Chaplain Garland, Elizabeth, Nan, and William were resuming their climb up the main turbolift shaft leading up to the _Enterprise_'s Main Bridge. Their voices echoed across the huge, dark empty shaft which was illuminated only by the Chaplain's glow-stick hanging and swaying at the right-side pocket of his formal black slacks.

"Do you know any songs?" asked the Chaplain. His question was for Elizabeth.

"Um…maybe?" asked Elizabeth, like she was asking a question. Her answer carried a tone of great uncertainty as regards to her song repertoire. "Why?" she asked with her inflection down. "I'm scared. I don't feel like singing…at this time…"

"Um…maybe a little song can lighten up our spirits," said the Chaplain. He grunted as he got hold of another ladder rung. "Maybe…maybe, just to make you and the little people feel better, maybe you can pick a song that you're familiar with. It's also because…of the bloody Temporal Prime Directive."

The Minstrel Boy?" asked Elizabeth. It was the song that the Chaplain taught her during her counseling sessions with him.

"Too sad," said the Chaplain. "Gonna put us to sleep. Save it for the funerals. Come on. Pick something…somewhat…lively. A hymn, maybe? One that you know in your church services?"

Elizabeth decided to give the matter some thought before she came to a decision of her own. Elizabeth was used to being bossed around by her older sister Annabelle about almost everything. Now she could choose what she wanted...sung.

"How about…oh, maybe...'Oh God Our Help In Ages Past'?" she asked the Chaplain.

"Ya mean…the Watts hymn?" asked the Chaplain in turn. The name of Watts was a reference to the hymn's 18th century hymn composer, Isaac Watts, known as the father of English hymnody. Most likely Elizabeth chose that song because it made her feel at home with the traditions of her own time.

"Is there anything wrong about it?" asked Elizabeth, curious over the Chaplain's delay which to her would almost seem like an inexplicable hesitancy to have the hymn sung.

"Um…no. Not at all, darlin'," replied the Chaplain. "It's an impeccable hymn." He cleared his throat a mite nervously. "I'm sure you folks, aside from Elizabeth know it, I presume?"

"I think so," said William. "I'm…I'm not sure, really."

"I couldn't remember everything in it," said little Nan.

"Well, I can sing one of 'em verses, the first verse, I mean. Then you, Elizabeth, can lead the rest in it. How's that sound?"

"Whatever," said William.

"Yes, please," said Nan.

In response the Chaplain officially began the song, sticking to the G Major key.

_O God, our help in ages past,_

_Our hope for years to come,_

_Our shelter from the stormy blast,_

_And our eternal home._

"Okay, Elizabeth, you sing the second verse now," coaxed the Chaplain.

Elizabeth was already starting on the second verse. But by the time she got to the second line, Nan and William, and even the Chaplain were following, too. Perhaps they wanted to speed things up a bit while singing _a capella_.

_Under the shadow of thy throne,_

_Still may we dwell secure_

_Sufficient is thine arm alone,_

_And our defense is sure._

* * *

On board the _U.S.S. Ronald Reagan_

The _Reagan_ was being pummeled by a barrage of gravimetric torpedoes. It was sustaining heavy damage as the torpedoes ripped through the saucer section, creating huge gashes and causing several structural areas to fly apart.

The ship's captain, Reginald Keene, orders the ship to be evacuated. On board the vessel crew personnel and a handful of civilians were being rushed across the corridors from their quarters to the escape pods and the shuttlecraft. Minutes later escape pods were jettisoned from the saucer section and whatever shuttlecraft stowed in the hangar bays were being launched from the Constitution class starship. Included in the evacuation were He decided to stay on board to plot a collision course against the secondary lead cube. Fairly incoherent comm radio chatter emanated across the bridge.

Then a Hispanic voice came on the comm. It was Capt. Emilio Sanchez of the _U.S.S. Womack_.

"Capt. Sanchez of the _U.S.S. Womack_," came the voice. "We can beam you out immediately."

"Can't," replied Capt. Keene. "I've got within myself the obligation to continue the fight to the very end. I'm setting a collision course to the secondary Borg cube."

"We can beam you out when your ship is a few meters to that cube, Captain. I can have my ship in beaming range of yours."

"Do it, then. At my signal."

Capt. Keene manipulated the helm controls and kept the vessel's directions to the Borg cube. It took him at least a couple of minutes because of his meticulous way of making absolute certainty that the coordinates were programmed into the helm computer. After making the necessary changes in the ship's course, he sat back in the captain's chair and "enjoyed the ride", hoping that if the Borg fired on his ship too early for him to have his ship rammed into the cube, and that assuming Capt. Sanchez was present he would be beamed out early enough before he went down with the ship. At this point he would have to take Capt. Sanchez at his word.

At this point the _Womack_ was cruising toward the _Reagan_.

"Faster," ordered Sanchez. "We've got to get to that ship in time. Can you get in sync with the _Reagan_?"

"Barely," replied the helmsman.

"What is the _Reagan_'s current cruising speed?"

"At this point, full impulse."

"Boost power to the impulse engines," ordered Sanchez.

By a little bit the _Womack_ was catching up with the _Reagan_.

"In range?" asked Sanchez.

"Yes, sir," replied the helmsman.

"Keep the ship in sync," Sanchez ordered again. "Get ready to make a steep bank the moment after we've beamed the captain out of his ship."

In about two to three minutes the _Reagan_ was about 800 meters at the secondary Borg cube. Capt. Keene then barked out his single word order.

"Now!" he bellowed.

Capt. Keene was beamed out of his Bridge. Seconds later the Constitution class starship crashed directly into the secondary lead Borg cube. The starship exploded into a giant fireball, creating some damage on the Borg vessel, but not too catastrophic to the Borg vessel itself.

* * *

And now for an overdose of Author's Notes:

A/N (1): I was trying to measure the length and width of a real duffel bag. However, I could only make rough measurements, as opposed to exact measurements, since I had to do without a measuring tape and measure the length and width of the duffel bag with my feet. Literally.

A/N (2): Minimal description of the RPD light machine gun was from Wikipedia dot org. Some of its skeletal info was from the same website as well.

A/N (3): How Chaplain Garland wields the RPD is similar to how Terminator wielded his machine gun in _Terminator 3: Rise of the Machines_. It's very possible that Chaplain Garland had a passing interest in James Cameron's Terminator movies, especially _Terminator 3: Rise of the Machines_. He derives the idea of how he's going to wield his Russian RPD light machine gun based on how Terminator wielded a heavy machine gun during a police encounter. Originally I was going to have Chaplain Garland wield an MG-42 Berlin heavy machine gun, because I thought it would look cool, but after watching a couple of YouTube videos on the MG-42 being fired, that particular idea would look unrealistic from an objective viewpoint because (1) the machine gun is heavy (hence being called "heavy machine gun"), and though it is implied throughout the story that the Chaplain has a pretty excellent muscular build, a machine gun like the MG-42 would be too cumbersome for him to tote around, especially that he is toting an estimate of 70 lbs worth of machine gun and small arms ammo, and (2) the Chaplain would have great difficulty aiming it, even while shooting from the hip, like in _Terminator 3_, due to the strong recoil. So basically that's how I came about having my Chaplain character shoot a replicated Russian RPD.

A/N (4): James Cameron's T-3 film is "ancient" from a 24th century viewpoint and standard.

A/N (5): I was visiting the US Marine Corps museum in Quantico. And I came across this heavy backpack that was said to weigh at least 70 lbs. I gave it a try, and man oh man, it was a hell of a lot heavier than the backpack I carry with my college textbooks; I thought it was a lot heavier than my mattress, possibly heaver than the patibulum that Jesus of Nazareth toted on his way to Calvary. (This is based on the premise that Jesus was carrying only the patibulum instead of the entire cross. C.f. _Murder at Golgotha_, by Ian Wilson). Not even me, in perfect health, could even carry that patibulum. AN d the idea of hiking several miles with 70 lbs of gear was "unthinkable"!

A/N (6): The phrase "my utmost to his Highest" by Oswald Chambers. It's very possible that after Chaplain Garland either read the book, skimmed through the book and had a chance encounter of the phrase itself, or just simply researched the book on the LCARS he decided to make a pun out of that phrase to keep up the humor in an otherwise tense situation in climbing the turbolift shaft (for the children's sakes); otherwise, how could he quote the phrase without even reading the book, much less skimming through it or researching it on the LCARS?

A/N (7): The hymn _Oh God Our Help In Ages Past_ is sung to the tune of "St. Anne", with the CM Meter. (**Text**: Isaac Watts, 1674-1748 – **Music**: Attr. To William Croft; harm. By W.H. Monk – **Tune**: St. Anne – **Meter**: CM) (.)

A/N (8): Capt. Emilio Sanchez looks like Commander Chakotay in the _Voyager_ series.

A/N (9): After reading an excerpt concerning the philosophy of "turning the other cheek", feel free to post a comment if you have serious issues with the teaching and my interpretation of it.

And now the Author would like to pose a rather intriguing question concerning the first two verses of the hymn _O God Our Help in Ages Past_ and how they relate to the situation of Chaplain Garland, Elizabeth, Nan, and William climbing up the turbolift shaft ladder.

BONUS QUESTION:

It seems at random that the first and second verses of the hymn _O God Our Help In Ages Past_ are sung, primarily because singers almost always start the first verse, then the second verse (in numerical order). However, there seems to be more behind the choices of the first verse and second verse being sung by Chaplain Garland and the children in the scene where they are making their long dangerous climb up the turbolift shaft ladder in low-level lighting, and it has something to do with the verses being appropriate for the predicament the group is in. Why do you think those two verses are appropriate for their situation?

Because the Author would like to encourage freedom of debate when discussing over his chapters, he would like you to post your answer guesses in the Reviews. If some of you are rather uncomfortable with having your answers posted in the Reviews for all to see, you're more than welcome to post your answers in his Fan Fiction PM Box. The answer will be posted in another "Chapter" after the story is finished. But even if the answer is there at the very end of the story, try to guess what the meaning behind the verses is before you even jump to story's end.


	53. Chapter 53

_**Star Trek: The Next Generation – Souvenirs**_

**Written By:**_** Commander Cody CC-2224**_

CHAPTER 53

On board the _U.S.S. Enterprise_…

Chaplain Garland and the children were only a few feet from the turbolift shaft doors of the Main Bridge level. This fact generated a spur in his strenuous upward climb.

Using a foldable stainless steel crowbar that he had hanging and swaying on his left-hand belt area of his Starfleet-issued black slacks, the Chaplain deeply inserted the adder-tongued tipped end of the instrument near the curved region of the crowbar's J=shape. (The foldable crowbar could be bent at the middle of its J-shape and straightened out by use of a secure metal clamping system.) Then with all his might he pushed the long end of the crowbar with his right hand to his left, since the short end of the J-shape was "inserted to its right," as the Chaplain would occasionally say to himself whenever he would handle the crowbar. This pushing force was able to pry the tightly secured shaft doors open by a few inches apart from each other, thanks to the crowbar's amazing tensile strength.

After prying the shaft doors open a few inches with his handy-dandy crowbar, the Chaplain climbed all the way up until he was standing at ladder's end. Upon gaining a firm grip on the door's exposed right-hand edge, he pried the right door to his right-hand direction. He then did the same with the other door as well. Very soon he managed to have both doors fully open all the way.

When the Chaplain made his way to the Main Bridge entrance he slid off his heavy duffel bag and his RPD from his back. Then he put himself in prone position and extended both his hands to little Nan.

"All right, little one, I got ya," he said, making every sincere effort to help Nan up to the Bridge entrance level.

Next was little William. Nan was leaning over the edge, worrying herself over William's personal safety, including that of Elizabeth. What if they should lose their grip and plummet to their deaths?

"C'mon, Willy, you can do it!" he coaxed. "Keep a-goin'!"

"I'm…trying!" yelled William. Poor little William was struggling to climb up the long ladder, and the struggle was even greater because he was climbing for what seemed to be a long time upward. Because of the fatigue he was feeling in his little legs he was beginning to feel oblivious to his footing and as a result he nearly slipped and lost his footing. Not only that his hands were so sweaty that he could barely get a grip. The fortunate part was that this little blunder forced William to pay more attention to both his grip and his footing for the duration of his upward climb.

Very soon William was able to hoist himself to the Main Bridge level. The Chaplain, as usual, extended his helping hands and William was able to get up to the ledge in a pretty safe manner.

The next child to be needing assistance a few seconds later was Elizabeth. Elizabeth had never climbed ladders that often. As a result she was starting to have difficulty continuing her upward climb, as her muscles were near fatigue after almost endless climbing. Her legs seemed to ache more because she had never done this much climbing, at least not to that particular extent in a shaft several hundreds of feet deep. Also, she was starting to feel scared that she might fall deep, deep down and plummet and die. And to make matters worse, coupled with this bodily inconvenience of a condition was her almost never-ending nervousness. Of course, Elizabeth knew pretty well that she wasn't the only one experiencing these plaguing ailments; Nan and William most likely felt the same thing she did.

Not only that, Elizabeth's hands started sweating. She started sweating, too, due to the nervousness, the tension, and the excite of this grand and glorious adventure of climbing up deep dark turbolift shafts that seemed far more eerie to her than anything else she encountered in her world.

Elizabeth was only half a foot from the reach of the Chaplain's extended hands. However, before the Chaplain could help her up, something terrible happened to Elizabeth that nearly cost her life.

In a few seconds her left foot slipped off the ladder rung. Her right foot was not fully secure on the ladder rung. As a result of her slip, she was on the verge of plummeting to her death. Coupled with the fact that her sweaty and shaking hands were doing little to secure her to the ladder rung, she was on the verge of losing her grip.

Immediately after losing her footing on the ladder rung, and seeing Elizabeth dangling on the shaft ladder and holding onto the ladder rung with both hands for dear life, Nan started screaming in the most hysterical manner ever, so loud that her voice could literally echo across the vast emptiness of the main turbolift shaft. "NO! ELIZABETH! _ELIZABETH_!" she yelled in panic.

"NOOO!" cried William.

Eventually in about a mere three seconds later poor Elizabeth lost her grip on one of the ladder rungs. Fortunately for her it was at this point that the Chaplain was in a position to catch her fall because his hands were extended beyond what he called as the "half-foot coverage". By sheer luck, if possibly by the hand of Divine Providence Chaplain Garland managed to catch her left arm with both his gripping hands.

"Ouch!" screamed Elizabeth, as she felt a flash of pain that struck like lightning on her arm joints.

"I got ya. I got ya," he called out, panting in his breath. However, because his entire body was extended to the ledge without proper securing, and because was a little heavier than Nan, Chaplain Garland was losing his footing on the ground while lying prone. Very soon the Chaplain started feeling himself sliding slowly but steadily over to the edge of the ledge. Eventually his sliding speed accelerated, and the Chaplain was on the verge of falling over. Luckily for him he freed his left hand from Elizabeth's left arm, while at the same time keeping his right arm on Elizabeth's left arm. With his free left hand he managed to grab onto a ladder rung nearest to the ledge of the main turbolift shaft entrance just in time before both he and Elizabeth could fall deep down the shaft itself.

Now the Chaplain was dangling and holding on for dear life as well, and so was Elizabeth…again. Poor Elizabeth started to cry.

"DON'T…LET…_GO_!" the Chaplain bellowed. The deep boom of his voice resonated in the shaft.

"I'm…I'm trying!" Elizabeth whimpered, feeling herself starting to shake out of an extreme level of fear that she never experienced before in her childhood life. It was a type of fear that one experienced when one was in the midst of a near-death experience. Tears started spilling out of her blue eyes. One slip from the Chaplain's saving hands and Elizabeth would be gone forever. One slip from the ladder rung and the Chaplain would be gone forever, too, along with Elizabeth. If they fell and managed to hit rock bottom both the Chaplain and Elizabeth would be dead.

While hanging on for dear life the Chaplain had an idea flash across the back of his mind like a bolt of lightning. "_Lis_-sen," he called out in a strained grunt. Immediately Elizabeth perked her tear-stained face up to the Chaplain who was trying his best to save her life. "I'm…I'm a-gonna lift ya up. You've…you have got to catch one of them nearest rungs that's in plain sight of ya before I let you go. It's one of 'em horizontal bars. You'll have to use whatever free hand you can. Can you do that?"

"I…I think so…" Elizabeth whimpered again, not having the confidence to even attempt such a ladder stunt as what the Chaplain was describing to her.

The Chaplain grunted and screamed with all his might. Channeling whatever physical strength into his right arm so as to give the impression that he was hooked on steroids for quite a long time, he lifted his arm carrying Elizabeth up. While the Chaplain was holding Elizabeth's left arm in his firm bearlike grip Elizabeth was preparing to grab hold of the nearest ladder rung. After swinging a bit with all his might and hoisting Elizabeth up with his free right hand, with his left hand still clinging to the ladder rung, Elizabeth was able to use her free right hand to catch hold of the nearest ladder rung.

Poor Elizabeth was starting to hyperventilate due to the sheer nervousness running down her spine. But the Chaplain wasn't finished with her yet.

"We're not finished, darlin'!" he shouted at her. "You gotta climb, dammit! _Climb_!"

Elizabeth struggled desperately to climb the ladder to the ledge, despite her fearful circumstance and shaking body. By the time Elizabeth was up, the Chaplain hoisted and strained himself over the ladder and onto the ledge. Elizabeth lent a helping hand.

The Chaplain panted for breath. Elizabeth was already traumatized by this horrific, near-death, and in tears. Wracked with frayed nerves, and convulsive sobbing, she crawled over to the Chaplain.

"Come over here, ya big lug," he coaxed. The Chaplain took hold of her and embraced the sobbing girl very closely like father to his daughter.

"It's all right…it's all right…" he tried to console her, panting. Whether things would be all right in the future for the little group remained to be seen. Elizabeth sniffled and blew her nose. At this point Chaplain Garland started ruminating over whether getting to the Main Bridge is well worth the effort, including their lives. This takeover of the Main Bridge nearly cost Elizabeth's life.

"Sorry that I yelled," the Chaplain said softly to her.

"I don't…I don't _ever_…_ever_…w-want to g-go through t-this…ever…again!" Elizabeth cried out loudly, while sobbing in the Chaplain's arms. "I…I-I d-don't want…N-Nan…and W-W-William to go…g-go…through this! N-not Lissie! N-not Ben! P-please!"

"We won't," the Chaplain promised her, while at the same time recovering his breath. Nan and William drew close to Elizabeth, doing their best to comfort her in her hour of fear.

"All of us won't," said the Chaplain quite determinedly. "Not on my vigilant watch."

* * *

The battle of the Corellian Sector was still going on. The Federation starships in the offensive group continued battling the secondary lead cube. A handful of the starships received heavy damage from the Borg cube's array of space weapons.

On the Main Bridge of the secondary lead cube the Borg Queen was surveying the real-time live action footage of the space battle. She noticed that the _Phoenix_ was making a run for the front part of the cube. It was going to hover over the cube while unleashing a barrage of photon torpedoes that could potentially damage the cube.

"Target the _Phoenix_," she ordered coolly and simply.

The secondary lead Borg cube unleashed a single gravimetric beam against the Phoenix's dorsal area of her saucer section near her rear impulse engine system. The _Phoenix_ was crippled.

* * *

In the Main Battle Bridge of the _Enterprise_ Captain Picard was surveying the battle while the _Enterprise_ was remaining stationary.

"Captain, the _Phoenix_ has taken heavy damage on its impulse engine systems," Worf informed the captain.

"You mean they're dead in the water?" asked Riker right away, looking back at Worf in dismay.

Worf cast an unintentional glare at Riker while looking up at him. "It appears so," he said quickly.

* * *

Chaplain Garland pushed himself up from the carpeted floor of the completely dimmed Main Bridge. After picking up his heavy duffel bag along with his heavy RPD, he made his approached to the tactical station at the middle of the Bridge. Right after setting down both his heavy machine gun and his duffel bag, he proceeded to access the console manually. However, the system kept locking him out, much to his vented frustration.

"I'll be damned," Garland muttered rather cynically in frustration. The controls are bloody locked!"

Chaplain Garland, knowing something about Galaxy-class starship systems, managed to bypass the security systems in order to bring the main systems online. Unzipping the right-hand side of his duffel bag he brought out a square-ish device that looked like a 21st century DSM device. It turned out it was actually a device used to bypass security systems in most of the ship's functions. Plugging the device in, he waited for the device to provide him unlimited clearance with tampering with the tactical console systems.

In the meantime Elizabeth wiped her eyes and ruffled her mobcap while securing it on her head like a child-sized bike helmet. Her flaxen-blonde hair looked a mite disheveled. Little Nan and William were waiting for Chaplain Garland to solve the problem.

The device worked. After Chaplain Garland had clearance, he wasted no time in activating almost every system on the main bridge. Much to the children's astonishment, the view-screen and the flood of fluorescent lights came on as sudden day.

Elizabeth had never seen the lights of the Main Bridge light up so suddenly. This also included the controls as well. But needless to say Elizabeth had become quite fairly accustomed to well-lit rooms, as did the rest of her friends from her own time, thanks to the _Enterprise_'s ultra-efficient lighting system. However, the one thing that nearly dazed Elizabeth, as did little Nan and William, was the sudden and almost abrupt lighting up of the Main Bridge itself. For three children who in their time were so used to gradual lighting by candlelight, it was so unusual for them to find an almost pitch-dark room so well-lit up so suddenly. Not even wax candles, much less tallow candles, generated that kind of intense and excellent fluorescent lighting.

"How did you manage to turn everything on?" asked Elizabeth rather curiously.

"I know something about Galaxy-class Federation starships because I was stationed on one initially when I was a Starfleet ensign," he replied a mite enthusiastically. "As for my hacking skills, I acquired them when I joined the Maquis. They had training sessions on hacking most Starfleet vessels and others as well."

Chaplain Garland and the children then took their appropriate positions on the Main Bridge. Nan was assigned to the helm control of the _Enterprise_. Elizabeth assumed the role of comm. officer, and William would be assigned the Bridge position of ship's gunner. For Nan, a black joystick emerged below near the front part of the helmsman's seat until it was within Nan's reach. However, the gunner's systems would have to be based on the NAV controls, which Chaplain Garland, with all his hacking skills, managed to assign to the NAV control panel.

The reason for such an arrangement was due to the fact that this was exactly the same position that the three children were in during the Bridge simulation that Transporter Chief Miles O'Brien took them to for excursion purposes. The only way for Chaplain Garland to arrange these three in such a position was if he was sort of told, perhaps by O'Brien himself. It was only logical that something like that would have happened; otherwise how would the Chaplain be able to assign these specific roles to Elizabeth, Nan, and William?

Nan couldn't decide for herself whether she should be excited or simply scared. The same went with William, and even with Elizabeth. This was the moment; the opportunity when they would put their excursive adventures to the test the real combat of space battle. But were they even officially qualified for this? To the Chaplain; three willing helpers were all he needed.

However, Nan found out, much to her surprise and disappointment, that the controls of the _Enterprise_ helm differed slightly from the holodeck Bridge settings she encountered in the holodeck version of the _Enterprise_. Chaplain Garland ordered the computer to access the manual steering column and transfer helm control to manual. This was done for the purpose of making some sort of reckless attempt to engage a lateral run against the 2nd Borg cube. The Chaplain made his hurried rush to the gunner's side and immediately programmed all weapons systems to be fired at one touch-button, wherein William would hit that button at the right time. Chaplain Garland had to specify what type of arsenal, too. He also made sure that he engaged the auto-shield modulation system.

"Now we're all set!" the Chaplain concluded in a rather excited tone of voice. This was the moment when both he and the children under his watch would make a difference in the battle of the Corellian sector.

That is, if Capt. Picard and his senior officers weren't monitoring their activity on the _Enterprise_'s Main Bridge.

* * *

Meanwhile, on the Battle Bridge, Lt. Commander Worf was alerted by a steady rapid four-beat beeping sound on his console.

"Captain, I am picking up a life-form reading on the Main Bridge," he informed quite loudly.

"How many?" Picard asked promptly. He didn't expect anyone to be able to make it to the Main Bridge after everything on the Main Bridge was on total lockdown. That also included the turbolift which lead directly up to the Main Bridge itself.

"Four, sir," answered Worf.

"Can you identify them?" asked Picard.

"Three of them are human children. However, I cannot identify the other."

Picard immediately sprang up from his captain's chair to take a good (long) look at Worf's monitor on the Battle Bridge's tactical console.

Worf was right about three of the life forms identified as human children. Picard managed to identify the other. Who else could it be but the Chaplain. For a pretty long time the captain regarded the Chaplain as a friend, if not a close one.

"Chaplain…Garland," Picard muttered to himself in utter astonishment.

How on earth did Chaplain Garland and the children ever gain unauthorized access to the Main Bridge itself, especially when the Bridge was at total lockdown? And more importantly, why? What did the Chaplain himself plan at the beginning? Was the Chaplain using the Borg invasion as an opportunity to seize command of the _Enterprise_? Did the Chaplain manage to disable any security sensor systems on the Main Bridge upon his arrival? Did he happen to have a set of rogue override commands for a Galaxy Class starship? These were the disturbing questions that were lingering in Picard's mind at this very moment.

The Chaplain, in spite of his seeming lack of reverence and his "semi-scandalous" lifestyle, was never known to break people's trust, especially after what he had been through for the past forty years. However his mind was racing desperately over why the Chaplain would not only take command of the Bridge, but also put the lives of three of the children from time in jeopardy. Whatever reason it was, Picard was desperately hoping that it did not have something to do with the Chaplain's own amusement. But the Chaplain still had to be questioned, personally by Capt. Picard himself. "What the hell could he be doing in there with three others?" he asked himself quietly.

He faced his tactical officer. "Open a channel to the Main Bridge," he ordered quietly. Somehow he just couldn't get over the rather unsettling fact over how the Chaplain and the three children managed to access the Main Bridge itself. Perhaps in all those months in his friendship, however brief it might have been maybe at the beginning, with the Chaplain himself, the Chaplain kept some dirty little secret from Picard that had something to do with his career in the Maquis before the organization went renegade after the Federation-Cardassian War. For the most part his lingering reaction was one of surprise, but he was not about to panic over someone sneaking into his Bridge. At the very least it wasn't the Borg.

Worf pressed a touch-button on the tactical console. "Channel open, Captain," he informed gruffly.

While seated in his captain's chair, Capt. Picard cleared his throat before speaking over the comm channel. "Chaplain, what the hell are you doing on my Bridge?" he yelled.

On the Main Bridge, Chaplain Garland became pretty startled over Capt. Picard's sudden "comm intrusion". "What the hell…" he muttered in frustration and dread as he fumbled over the right-hand console panel of the captain's chair. Possessing both dread and excitement of being discovered, and with the three children, he pressed the comm button in trepidation as he proceeded to answer the comm.

"Um…who is this?" asked the Chaplain, having some lingering feelings of embarrassment of being discovered. But he already knew that; there were sensors all on board the _Enterprise_ itself.

"Captain Picard of the _Enterprise_, speaking from the battle Bridge," said the captain. His tone did not seem warm and friendly this time; it had a professional curtness to it. "What the hell are you doing up there? It had better not be…"

Chaplain Garland had no time to listen to Picard's justified rants about the Chaplain's seemingly restless escapades of heroism. "Just prepping the necessary coordinates on what would appear to be our final run against that damn Borg cube," he spoke up quite loudly.

"Who are you with?" Picard asked right away crossly.

"What?" the Chaplain called out.

"We have received got a reading of three life forms on the Bridge, Chaplain," the captain informed him quite bluntly. "Who the hell are they? Did you leave our guests in the Guest Quarters for your own amusement…?"

"On the contrary," the Chaplain interrupted him quickly. "Three of our guests from time, Captain, are with me," answered the Chaplain. "Miss Cole and the Merriman toddlers."

Picard heaved a rather frustrated sigh. It seemed to the captain that the Chaplain himself was acting irresponsibly for his own amusement in the field of heroism, with no regard to the safety of the three children. At the same time, however, the Chaplain might have some rather valid reasons for bringing the three children to the Main Bridge, and it certainly was not for their own amusement. But he felt he had to warn the Chaplain himself.

"Chaplain, if something happens to them, you'll be culpable in violating the Temporal Prime Directive," he warned him quite seriously.

"Well, I ain't got nobody else to assist me, and it sure as hell looked like those three voted to come along!" said the Chaplain. "You can thank William Merriman for that!"

"You could have asked some of the crewmen to assist you," said Picard.

"I couldn't leave the others," replied the Chaplain. "Not alone, at the very least, if ya know what I'm talkin' about. At the very least, I need someone who can give me a rudimentary readout of the tactical console, and I need someone who can pilot the ship and someone who can press the firing button at the split second."

"Who's at the helm?" asked Picard.

"Nan Merriman," answered the Chaplain.

"And the NAV?"

"Um…William, as I recall."

"And Miss Cole is at the tactical station, I assume?"

"Affirmative, Captain."

The seeming weirdness of the Chaplain's situation, as well as that of the children, at least in the mind of Capt. Picard still unsettled him rather greatly. Aside from all that jazz, it was also the inconvenience due to his reputation as a starship captain. But more than that. From Picard's point of view, the Chaplain was putting the lives of the three children at risk, rendering them liabilities. If something bad happened to them, Picard would be blamed for their fates. But at this point, there seemed to be nothing for Picard to do at this point. The Chaplain was already at the bridge, and the captain's prudence dictated that sending in a tactical team to apprehend him was going to be counterproductive at the very least. Besides, in spite of what the Chaplain was doing at this very minute, the captain still kind of trusted him, and the Chaplain had his reasons for coming over to the _Enterprise_'s Main Bridge. However much the notion that every man must be supposed a knave nagged the back of his mind, he still desperately hoped that whatever the Chaplain was doing right now had something to do with him actually having a trick or two up his sleeve in the fight against the Borg.

Picard hung his head, his hands on his hips, in the position as if trying to mull over…something. "What do you want now, Chaplain?" he asked over the comm.

"I want y'all to trust me," replied Chaplain Garland.

Picard heaved a rather exasperated sigh as he reclined back in the captain' chair. "Do I have a choice," he said to himself quietly.

"It's either that, or nothin'," said the Chaplain, answering as though he could even hear Picard's low-toned statements made unto himself.

Captain Picard was now more forceful in his reply. "Fine," he said now more forcefully.

"And one other thing, Captain," the Chaplain continued as if trying to make a last request to the captain of the _Enterprise_. "And one other thing, Captain," said he. "I'd like power to the main turbolift restored so that we can make our own little getaway from the Bridge in case the Borg drones start beaming directly to our position."

"You've got it!" Picard said finally. "Picard out!"

Immediately after that Capt. Picard turned to Commander La Forge if he was up to some task that he was about to give. "Geordi, is there a way we can remotely restore power to the main turbolift system?"

Commander La Forge's basic proposal had something to do with rerouting the flow of electrical current from the nonessential functions of the ship to the main turbolift leading up to the Main Bridge. It would be necessary because due to the children having VIP status the Chaplain and the children would need a backup escape route in case Borg drones started beaming aboard the Main Bridge itself.

"Yeah," said La Forge. "Remotely switch the circuit breakers to close position, allowing for interrupted alternating current flow. Then we can reroute electrical power from any nonessential functions of the ship: transporters, replicators, force fields, any whatsoever…probably life support as well."

"Transporters?" Commander Riker burst out.

"The three latter suggestions in the list of separate power sources are out of the question," said the captain.

"If we have no choice, we may have to do just that, Captain," replied La Forge. "Right now, most of the systems, essential and nonessential, are still functional. Whatever systems on board the _Enterprise_ that are _still_ functional…it's gonna get compromised. Those Borg are taking over the ship real fast, Captain. Very soon we won't have much of anything to use for a secondary backup for your Chaplain friend and your VIPs to get off the Bridge if Borg drones start popping in as uninvited guests."

For some reason Picard's face reflected skepticism, as he really was skeptical about Geordi's proposal. Transporter systems? What about Data, the Corellian Bridge Officer Kese, and the other two children from time? What about them? If they needed immediate options, the transporter systems would need to be kept active, which meant that they could not afford to have interference by a diversion of electrical power. If power was cut off from the transporter systems, Data and the rest of his assault party would not be able to get back on board the _Enterprise_.

"We can attempt the use of the transporter systems instead as a temporary power source," suggested Geordi. "The systems themselves may be feasible for secondary backup usage."

"That'll put Mr. Data and whatever party he has in a vulnerable situation," warned Commander Riker.

"Do it," ordered Picard briefly.

At this point it was already apparent that Capt. Picard was woefully unaware that Felicity and Ben are with Data and the Corellian Bridge Commander Kese. But even if he was, he would still give the order anyway because power was needed for the turbolift for the Main Bridge, so that Chaplain Garland and the three others would not get trapped in the Main Bridge. At least Felicity and Ben had Data and the Corellian officer, and both Felicity and Ben were big enough to defend themselves, at the very least, if not strong enough. Nan, William, and Elizabeth had only the Chaplain to watch and guard them, and even he would not be enough to defend the three others against a possible Borg boarding on the Main Bridge. This was why Capt. Picard had to make sure that an escape route was available for the four of them on the Main Bridge. Besides, if Felicity and Ben couldn't be rescued outside the _Enterprise_, at least Chaplain Garland and the children could.

* * *

Chaplain Garland gave the order for little Nan to move the ship a little closer, about 8000 meters, according to the distance meter with the measurements displayed directly on an easy-to-read LCD screen positioned at the middle of the helm console. Capt. Picard managed to send the coordinates from the battle bridge, the secondary bridge of the Enterprise's star-drive part. The _Enterprise_ was now set on a direct collision course against the secondary lead cube on full impulse power. A large percentage of electrical power was being diverted to the saucer impulse engines.

The Chaplain in the meantime was tapping various touch-buttons on the helm console while Nan was at the helmsman's seat. "Diverting…auxiliary power…to the saucer impulse engines…!" he said to himself in such a manner that even the children could hear him.

* * *

Meanwhile, on the second lead Borg cube, information was relayed in unison by the Borg collective about the status of the _Enterprise_ and where it was currently heading.

"Federation-starship-heading-directly-at-Cube-unit-0-0-1-5. Identification:_ U-S-S-Enterprise, N-C-C-1-7-0-1-D_. Federation-starship-bearing-at-3-2-3,-mark-4-1-4."

What this basically meant that despite the verbosity of the info relayed by the Borg Collective, the fact was certain that the _Enterprise _was now heading straight for the Borg cube. In seconds, the Borg Queen was alerted at the _Enterprise_ homing in, perceiving it to be setting a collision course at the cube she was on.

The Borg Queen issued a single order to the cube, bellowing like a typical spoiled child. "FIRE EVERYTHING!" she yelled.

The cube vessel launched a salvo of several gravimetric torpedoes. They homed on the saucer section of the _Enterprise_ like wasps.

* * *

Things were not so good on the Main Bridge. The _Enterprise_ was suffering from a constant barrage of gravimetric torpedoes. Nan and William were getting more and more fearful by the second, even to the point of losing their morale.

"This is hopeless!" cried Elizabeth. Her own statement seemed to echo what Nan and William were thinking during this very moment, that is, if they had some idea as to what was at stake here.

"Don't get all fearful, Missy!" the Chaplain tried to encourage her in an effort to bolster morale in her, and possibly to little Nan and William as well. "We're not at our breakin' point! At least not yet anyway! Just read out the goddamn stats!"

"What do you mean?" cried Elizabeth. At this point she was finding herself unable to know what to do on the tactical console. And apart from that all three children feared greatly that the _Enterprise_ was going to break apart.

"Whatever you can make out of that goddamn console, just read it out loud!" bellowed the Chaplain.

In spite of her sheer fright Elizabeth struggled to focus herself on not only making out what the tactical console computer screen was displaying to her, but also struggling to interpret what was being conveyed as best as her eleven-year-old mind could. She couldn't really give some sort of a technically intelligent answer; her mind just wasn't mature enough to handle those kind of sophisticated technical explanations that the experts were so good at that it was almost second nature to them. So Elizabeth's explanations comprised mainly of a few simple words that would normally be expected of a five-year-old struggling to interpret the overall story of a well-known but rather complex piece of literature of her time like _Gulliver's Travels_.

Elizabeth continued staring in shear concentration at the console computer screen. Very soon she took notice of blinking little red blips approaching a figure of a Galaxy-class starship.

"We've got…things incoming!" cried Elizabeth, feeling both panicky and frightened at the very same time.

"Torpedoes?" bellowed Chaplain Garland. "Damn them! Maintain current course and speed!"

The gravimetric torpedoes kept pummeling the _Enterprise_. The incoming projectiles lit up with bright green lights hitting the vessel were more than enough to scare both Nan and William out of their childish wits, including Elizabeth, no less.

"Steady, folks! Ne'er mind those damn things!" cried the Chaplain.

On the Master Systems Display, bright red outlines all around the visual outlinish diagram of the _Enterprise_ started flashing like crazy; an indication that both dorsal and ventral sections of the shield grid arweree reaching their point of compromise.

"WARNING," chirped the voice of the _Enterprise_'sshipboard computer emotionlessly. SHIELDS AT CRITICAL LEVEL. RECOMMEND ENGAGEMENT OF AUTO-EVASIVE MANEUVER SYSTEMS."

The ominous tone of the computer's verbal warning system sent a cold chill straight down Elizabeth's nerves. _That thing, whatever it is, might not be mistaken_, she thought to herself in a fearful manner, as her stomach knotted over the possibility of something terrible going to happen on the _Enterprise_. It was something she just couldn't get out of her eleven-year-old head easily.

"Shouldn't we…do what the computer…what 'tis called…suggests?" she asked frighteningly.

"No!" cried the Chaplain. "It'll throw us off course! Just keep 'er at full heading!"

As the _Enterprise_ made its fairly cumbersome approach at the second Borg cube, Nan took a firm grip onto the joystick with both hands and immediately banked the ship hard to port. As was featured in the simulator two days ago, that similar joystick was at the front part of the helmsman's seat. The joystick's support column was also adjustable, as if the techies who were designing the _Enterprise_'s helm console were anticipating some guy who was as short as Nan to be piloting the helm.

At the right moment, in almost perfect timing, Chaplain Garland executed the order to fire the _Enterprise_'s onboard weapons. Immediately without a moment's hesitation little William hit hard on a single touch-button on the NAV computer screen. The starboard phaser banks and modified Mark VI torpedoes began to fire in both directions from the starboard bow, ninety degrees relative to the saucer section, at zero elevation, at a certain area in the Cube, where it will cause critical damage. (The phasers swept a bit on the target while five modified torpedoes fire from the launch.)

"That Borg cube's gonna need a helluva lotta punishment!" remarked the Chaplain out loud.

* * *

On the Main Bridge of the Federation starship _Exeter_ Capt. Price surveyed the catastrophic explosion ripping a vital section of the Borg cube's hull structure. On his worry-etched face, his face slowly generate da gleeful smile. Finally, some sort of victory, even if it was against one bloody Borg cube!

"Target that explosion and fire," the captain ordered. "Fire the antimatter warheads."

"The _Exeter_'s tactical officer inputted the firing coordinates onto the tactical console. Then she pressed the "Fire" touch-button. Outside the _Exeter_'s front torpedo bay four modified Mark VI photon torpedoes armed with class-10 antimatter warheads were launched.

The _Phoenix_ even acted as an auxiliary unit in the destruction of the secondary lead Borg cube.

"Fire! Fire at will!" ordered the ship's captain with great urgency.

The _Phoenix_ immediately fired its shipboard weapons. Four Mark VI torpedoes of the same modifications of the same torpedoes fired from both the _Enterprise_ and the _Exeter_ were fired out of her main front photon launcher. Along with the torpedoes fired from the _Exeter_ they homed in on the lead enemy vessel. Seconds later the Borg cube was hit.

The explosion was utterly catastrophic in nature. The antimatter warheads inside the torpedoes caused critical structural damage. The warheads combined from both starships that fired them unleashed almost ten times the catastrophic explosion of a crude Hiroshima bomb. The searing white-hot heat melted the Borg cube superstructures seconds before the explosion touched them. It was beyond hell. The blast ripped structures apart.

The Borg Queen had only a second or two to act quickly. Almost without a moment's hesitation she activated her emergency transporter unit located on her left breast. Seconds later she was beamed out of the flaming secondary lead cube.

In a final culminating and stunning explosion the cube disintegrated to the point where ship parts floated in opposite directions in space, creating what would appear to be a ripple effect of cube parts spreading around in a vast radius.

* * *

On the third Borg cube, the multitude of voices of the Borg drones in unison informed their Queen about the three children on the Main Bridge of the _Enterprise_. Their tone was cold and devoid of virtually all human emotion. The Queen, however, who was an individual and had a mind of her own, was beginning to have a longing for revenge. She wanted vengeance, if not justice, and she wanted the children for her own assimilation purposes.

"Bridge-scan-complete," informed the drones. "Four-life-forms-identified."

"Target the bridge," ordered the Queen coldly.

* * *

On the _Enterprise_ Bridge Elizabeth was breathing a heavy and satisfied sigh of relief. At the very same time, however, she was just as wrapped in the shock and awe that little Nan and William were wrapped up in. Clearly these children had never, even in their lifetime, witnessed a destructive explosion of such magnitude that not even gunpowder could imitate. And especially one that took place in the vast emptiness of space. And to top that off, each of the children were silently questioning the strange aspect of not hearing even the slightest sound of the explosion itself.

In the meantime, however, little William was busy jumping for joy in his seat, crying out, "Yes! Yes! Take _that_, bad ship!" Nan, however, only shot back a shocked glance at her little brother. Elizabeth, on the other hand, was already finding herself unable to restrain her questions about what she perceived as a "silent explosion".

"Why…why did we not hear anything?" she asked falteringly.

"Hear a-what?" asked the Chaplain, putting his right finger to his right ear, as if to catch thoroughly what Elizabeth was trying to say to him.

"The sound," said Elizabeth, wondering if the Chaplain could really hear her. "We had no sound. Nothing at all. Why?" she finished with a descent of her inflection.

"Cause there ain't no atmosphere in space," the Chaplain answered Elizabeth in point of fact, and in quite a blunt manner without going into too much elaborate scientific detail. "Space is a vacuum."

"Meaning…" Elizabeth pressed on, trying to get this strange scientific notion wrapped around her eleven-year-old head.

"Sound needs air to travel. Without it, ya don't got no sound."

"So…if there was no air, we…um…we wouldn't hear each other speak?" Elizabeth continued pressing on.

"Exactly," said the Chaplain quite abruptly, as if he was so anxious to get the discussion to end quickly. "C'mon, folks. Let's git the hell outta here. We're finished with business as we are, and…"

Suddenly Chaplain Garland and the children felt a violent earthquake-like lurch on board the _Enterprise_.

* * *

To bring down the shield grid on the bridge the Borg Queen orders several gravimetric torpedoes to target the bridge section. The Borg ship unleashed an overwhelming barrage of gravimetric torpedoes. They kept hitting the _Enterprise_. Ripples were forming in the deflector shields.

* * *

The sudden and unexpected violent lurch made by the gravimetric torpedoes impacting the _Enterprise_ was literally enough to knock Chaplain Garland and the three children off their feet. Nan and William were already finding themselves sprawling on the carpeted floor of the Main Bridge.

Suddenly computer screen panels started blowing off their places due to the violent impact of the gravimetric torpedoes fired from the last Borg vessel. Electrical circuits were busted and sparks flew off like crazy, startling the children greatly. (Both Elizabeth and Nan scream when electrical sparks nearly hit them. The lights flickered off and only the red hues of the emergency lights are kept on. All four were knocked to their feet.

"AUTOSHIELD MODULATION SYSTEM IS OFFLINE," warbled the computer.

Elizabeth felt very terrified. "What's all this red?" she asked instinctively in a shout as she looked around the room in a flustered manner, with the blinking red lights going on and off in rhythm.

Chaplain Garland grunted in sheer pain as he struggled to push himself up from the debris-scattered floor. Then after he straightened himself out he strapped on his trusty shoulder-worn RPD light machine gun on his right hand side, hoping that it wasn't too damaged during the Borg attack.

"Emergency lights," he answered finally in a rather gruff manner. "They're powered by the backup generator system on board this ship." He managed to help Nan and William up on their own two feet before he stretched and contracted, that is, relaxed, his body. "And you'd a-better hope that those goddamn generators don't get busted by those space zombies as well," he added quite forcefully, before casting a brief look at Nan and William, to see how they personally were doing so far. "You all right?" he asked pretty simply.

Nan and William made nervous head nods, their eyes wide with fear and utter shock, as the Chaplain looked at them again. "This still ain't no time to get scared shitless…" he had to remind them briefly, lest they of all people let down their own guard.

Elizabeth, despite experiencing the shock of the attack, was gradually recovering her wits. "Well…" she began. "…Most of the time I can't help feeling scared…even now…" she remarked a mite solemnly as cast a look at Nan and William as she gathered them under her wing. "And the same…can be said…of these two little mites." Even she herself felt scared, but in spite of all that she tried her best to comfort little Nan and William during their fearful hour, for her best friend's sake, and she sought consolation in them in her hour of fear as well.

At this point Elizabeth most likely didn't understand quite thoroughly what the hell Chaplain Garland was talking about, but she could only make her own personal affirmation of hope that nothing further would go wrong…if ever. Chaplain Garland made his stumble across the Main Bridge in order to get himself access to the tactical console.

"Whatever it is you were talking about, I do hope that everything goes all right," said Elizabeth as she shivered in fear.

Chaplain Garland grunted in pain again as he leaned himself over on the starboard side of the security console. "Well…hope all you want," he said in his same gruff manner. "I'm afraid I suspect…that it's only a matter of time before those Borg drones start touching on those generators." He managed this time to make his own way to the security console to do a quick check on the deflector shield grid status. As he pushed himself to the middle of the console a console panel blew off near his face, which was followed by stray electrical sparks gushing out of the gaping area where the console once was.

"Damn!" yelled the Chaplain vociferously. The grimace in his face was already betraying his heated frustration over the bloody panel more than the fear of getting his face hit. Chaplain Garland attempted to check the console for the shield grid status, but was unable to, as power to the security console has been cut off. The console screens were totally blank, as they had lost all electrical power. It was at this point that the Chaplain heaves a very frustrated sigh.

"Computer…" shouted the Chaplain. He paused to get his breath back. "…What…what is the status of the deflector shields?"

It took a little more than three seconds before the computer responded. "DEFLECTOR SHIELDS AT ZERO PERCENT," was its emotionless and synthesized reply.

"Damn!" the Chaplain swore again. He looked up slowly, as a rather frightening feeling came to him. If the shields were completely down, virtually everything on board the _Enterprise_, including the Main Bridge, and possibly the Battle Bridge was vulnerable to the Borg. Of course Captain Picard made sure that the Battle Bridge was equipped with its own power generator used to power the Battle Bridge's surrounding force field, which would prevent beaming directly into that particular Bridge itself. But the defense systems on the Main Bridge were offline, which put Chaplain Garland, Elizabeth, Nan, and William in…grave danger.

"That can only mean one thing…" he said to himself quietly.

Quickly he made sure that his heavy machine gun was loaded and locked. In a few seconds three Borg drones beamed directly on the Main Bridge. In a split second Chaplain Garland whipped out his M9 Beretta sidearm and started popping lead at the advancing Borg drones. The gunshots were so loud for the three children that they both covered their ears. But, Elizabeth, having to mind Nan and William, had to stop covering her ears so she could lead Nan and William to the short temporary safety of the Chaplain's behind, grimacing in sheer pain as the loud gunshots hurt her ears.

Then Elizabeth grabbed on to the handle of the Chaplain's heavy machine gun hanging on his right side. Gripping as hard as she could, and tensing her body, she forced herself to pull the strong trigger. The replicated RPD fired live replicated machine gun rounds directly at the Borg drones, which drilled into their cybernetic bodies and damaged them totally beyond repair. Elizabeth kept up the live machine gun fire until every last one of the Borg drones present on the Main Bridge itself dropped dead.

"Thanks, Miss Cole," said the Chaplain quickly, looking at Elizabeth. "Though I think I should really warn you about…"

There was no time to finish his piece. Immediately five more Borg drones materialized on the Main Bridge itself.

"Oh, no," said the Chaplain, wide eyed in surprise more than terror.

Chaplain Garland opened fire with his heavy machine gun. The Borg drones were deterred, but only just, for they were advancing faster in their mindless automaton marathon pace. Between machine gun bursts, the Chaplain ordered the children out of the Main Bridge and into the turbolift.

"Come on! Into the turbolift!" screamed the Chaplain himself. He made his advance to the main turbolift backward, as he kept on pumping live replicated rounds into the already machine-gun-ripped bodies of the Borg drones. Normally it would have posed a hazard to use the turbolift in the even of a major Borg invasion. But for the time being Chaplain Garland was going to have to take that chance…for now, as there was no other way to get back to Deck 10, where the safety of the Guest Quarters was. After making his way to the turbolift, the Chaplain pressed the turbolift button. While waiting for thirty seconds the Chaplain protected the three children by keeping the Borg at bay with whatever machine gun ammo he had. When he ran out of ammo, he switched to his M9 sidearm, which he loaded upon realizing that his sidearm was empty.

In a few seconds the turbolift came up, and Chaplain Garland shoved Elizabeth, Nan, and William into the main turbolift itself. The ride in the turbolift was not without incident, however, as Garland and the children heard a loud thud. Then there was drilling on the ceiling area. However, by the time the tool was recognized as Borg in origin, the turbolift manages to reach the level where the guest quarters are located. Garland and the children sprinted out of the turbolift, passed hurriedly the rows of corridors occupied with Borg fighting and Starfleet personnel using WWII weapons against them.

* * *

When the little group made their hasty arrival back to the Guest Quarters, Chaplain Garland wasted no time in setting up a physical defense barrier against the doors in case the Borg attempted to gain entry through the doors. However, the Chaplain knew full well that this barrier would only be temporary because the Borg were excellent at adapting to most situations, probably even the toughest ones, but he did not tell the children that because it would make them lose orbs of courage. He did, however, know that the Borg, just like all other finite entities, had limits as they what they could do and what situations they could adapt to, even if the Borg themselves would dare not admit this.

So Chaplain Garland and the children, when asked, if not ordered to, assisted each other in setting up a barricade beside the room's entranceway. The first thing they utilized was the force field system. Then to top that off, they added the room's desk. After much pushing and shoving of furniture to barricade the Guest Quarters entrance, the four plopped down beside the left hand side of the king-sized bed, flat-out exhausted...and at the same very same time immensely relieved to have escaped the clutches of the Borg with their lives.

"Do…you think that will hold?" asked Elizabeth, as she struggled to recover her breath.

"…Think so," the Chaplain replied, as he struggled to recover his breath, too.

"What if it doesn't?" asked Nan, who was worried as usual about what would happen if the Borg came back.

"Well, frankly, little one…it's gonna be helluvan interestin' day," the Chaplain finished quite plainly.

* * *

For most of the time I was suffering from "writer's block". But there were other aspects to this delay of chapter submission, apart from my summer schoolwork ('cause I was taking summer classes at the Germanna Community College back in '10). My mind could just literally blank out from staring at a brightly lit computer screen for lengthy periods of time. And at times I just had to give my eyes a break from staring at the computer screen for a long time. So I literally had to print out at least three drafts, go over them, analyze them, correct them, etc. before I could submit them to FanFiction dot Net. Aside from all that I needed to fill in the narrative gaps, which I initially noted in ALL CAPS so I could notice them easily.

Originally I decided to just submit chapter 52 as one whole chapter. However, after running through it nearly five times, and modifying it in the same number of times it took to run through the entire chapter, I decided that the chapter was far too long out of the ordinary.

And now for yet _another _overdose of Author's Notes:

A/N (1): The scene where Chaplain Garland and Elizabeth are hanging on to the ladder rungs for dear life was inspired by the scene in _Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 2_, where Capt. MacTavish prevents Sgt. Gary "Roach" Sanderson from falling off the ice ledge in the beginning mission ("Cliffhanger"), and the scene from Batman Begins, where after a battle in the monastery in the Himalayas Batman is about to fall off a snowy ledge whole having to prevent both himself in his "mentor" Ducard from falling off, too. (Is it possible that either two derived movie scene ideas from each other?)

A/N (2): The phrase of the quotation "…Every man must be supposed a knave…" was from Alexander Hamilton.

A/N (3): The coordinates were just simply a bunch of randomly made-up numerical values.

A/N (4): "Elizabeth continued staring in shear concentration at the console computer screen. Very soon she took notice of blinking little red blips approaching a figure of a Galaxy-class starship." This idea was derived from the comedy sci-fi movie _Galaxy Quest_.

A/N (5): The scene where the _Exeter_ and the _Phoenix_ destroy the last Borg cube with modified Mark VI photon torpedoes, in respective order, was a montage to Star Trek VI, where the _Excelsior_ and the _Enterprise_ destroy the Klingon Bird-Of-Prey with Mark VI photon torpedoes.

A/N (6): The phrase "orbs of courage" was a reference to the classic _Golden Compass_ video game (the video game based on the _Golden Compass_ movie, which is base on _The Golden Compass_, one of the books of Philip Pullman's _His Dark Materials_ trilogy). In the video game the playable character Lyra Belacqua has courage orbs that can be lost if she gets dis-"courage"d in a tough situation in the game.


	54. Chapter 54

_**Star Trek: The Next Generation – Souvenirs**_

**Written By:**_** Commander Cody CC-2224**_

CHAPTER 54

Lt. Commander Data, Corellian Bridge Commander Kese, Felicity, and Ben made their hurried rush through the dimly lit corridors of the Corellian Battle Cruiser _K'Mar_. Their primary objective was to activate the main weapons array of the Corellian cruiser through an activation matrix system located on the Main Battle Bridge. During the course of this hurried rush, Ben was armed with his M1 Carbine, Felicity with her Thompson SMG, Data with his Remington 700 shotgun, along with his replicated MG-42 Berlin heavy machine gun, and Kese with his Corellian disruptor rifle, with his hand-held disruptor gun as his personal sidearm, which he obsessively kept at his own person almost at all times. Alarm blares of "oo-_wa_-a-ang, oo-_wa_-a-ang" resounded non-stop in a steady rhythm, accompanied by blinking blue alarm lights instead of the conventional red. It was just the way the Corellians designed their shipboard alarm systems.

The group of four made their arrival at a hallway infested with Borg drones. It would have been feasible to just simply take another route, but that option was out of the question since the entire cruiser was at lockdown.

"Borg drones," muttered Commander Kese in a mixture of both resentment and fear at the same time.

"Can't…can't we go another way?" asked Felicity, this time nearly letting her fear overcome her. Her spine shivered at the sight of those hideous drones lurking around the corridor bathed in low-level fluorescent lighting and blinking pale blue square panel lights.

"Out of the question!" Kese snapped right away, struggling to keep his crabby tone of voice to a whisper. "The entire cruiser is on lockdown. We get stuck in some other part of this vessel, we're done for. _Done_ for, I say!"

Felicity at this point was at a loss for words at the incredible but terrifying sight she was now bearing witness to. "Oh…my God," she whispered in frightened awe.

"A common interjection of awe generated at a frequent basis by most humans whenever a particular person, place, or thing of significant interest comes across one's path," put in Data right away in his android blabbing. "Origins of the phrase date back to…"

"Oh, never mind the history!" Commander Kese snapped in exasperation, feeling pretty tense at the very same time, his eyes locked on the hideous-looking Borg drones. "While I find it fascinating, it has no _pertinence_ to our _mission_!" he snapped again. Then he looked around, his nerves chilling almost incessantly. "I honestly don't know how we will be able to get past this…this _cyborg_ barricade," he finished with tension in his own voice.

"Technically speaking, I thought Corellian personnel almost always knew how to find their way out of seemingly precarious situations," Data put in. "Perhaps one wonders…"

"If we Corellians are endowed with seemingly human limitations; is that what you're about to say, Commander Data?" interrupted Kese as the same tone of crabbiness and tension in his tone of voice suddenly came back to him.

"It is theoretically possible I would have said something relatively close to that interesting premise." The android cast a blank glance at the Corellian officer with his pale yellow eyes. "That being the case, it would seem that the dictation of prudence would justify me taking the lead of this expedition." He paused for a moment. "Unless such a seemingly bold move would directly hurt your pride by an implication that most Corellian personnel are not entirely innovative humanoid life forms, despite their apparent renowned ingenuity that is reflected in both the aesthetic and the meticulous engineering details of their own space vessels."

"Oh, _fine_!" Kese finished snappishly in heated exasperation, struggling to keep his voice down out of fear of being discovered by those dastardly Borg drones. "What_ev_er!"

The Corellian commander made the first offensive move. Pulling out a special tricorder that he kept in his right-hand belt case made of Corellian synthetic leather dyed in a dark purplish color, he snapped it open until the rectangular touch-screen was accessible, along with its rectangular touch-screen keyboard interface. Then he activated a ceiling-based auto turret that was capable of being remote-controlled by his tricorder. The turret shot out pulsed pale-blue energy beams that fired at 1500 rounds a minute, much to the rate of a .50 machine gun.

The Borg, however, were able to adapt to the weaponry within a span of a mere few seconds, and Data was forced to resort to a mere handful of incendiary grenades. Also known as thermal detonators, these special incendiary devices were shaped in a cylinder, as most standard incendiary grenades of the 21st century were. The thermal detonators could be remote-detonated by a joystick with a red push-button. Isomagnetic charges could be either manually set to detonate or remote detonated by a correct frequency from a standard Federation tricorder.

Data now made his ultimate move against the Borg drones. Activating the thermal detonator he hurled it at the gathered group of drones. Immediately after activation the thermal detonator engaged a digital timer on its circular side, as opposed to the topsides, starting from exactly five seconds before it went off after the digital count of one. The thermal detonator exploded after Data pressed hard with his trusty android hand on a pushbutton on a detonator stick. The bomb made a wide incendiary blast radius, enough to wreck the hall to a smoldering corridor.

Instantly the halon fire suppression system was activated, filling the half-dimly lit room with its rectangular fluorescent lights with the fogging gas. A combination of the smoke from the thermal detonator explosion, the pungent smell of burnt deuterium, along with the strong odor of the halon chemical, was enough to make Felicity and Ben cough, choke, and sputter, especially that such a combination of odors was so foreign to them in their time.

"Fire at will," Data ordered right away.

Forming a line, the miniscule group of four fired off their weapons in their attempts to blast their way and fend off the Borg drones. Data fired his Remington 700 Shotgun, and Kese fired his Corellian disruptor rifle which fired pulse energy beams rather than laser version. In spite of the stifling smell of burnt deuterium and halon, Ben struggled to aim and fire his replicated M1 Carbine, and Felicity struggled to aim and fire her Thompson SMG semi-automatically. The difficulty was greater for Felicity because there was only so much smell and shot that her eleven-year-old body could handle. When his shotgun shells run out, Data switched immediately to his MG-42 Berlin machine gun, spraying replicated but real lead shells across the fogged-up hall.

The MG-42 Berlin machine gun was said to be in Earth's World War Two history as one of the most terrifying automatic weapon due to its high rate of suppressive fire and its legend of having the sound of ripping cloth. The weapon itself was said to be so terrifying to American soldiers during the Second World War that they had trauma over it because of its instant kill capabilities. Gas-operated and capable of firing at 1200 rounds a minute, which was said to be twice the rate of an American Browning Automatic Rifle, the machine gun itself could pack a powerful punch against scores of advancing enemy infantry. Its designed allowed for prolonged suppressive fire, but regulations in the past forbade firing more than 300 rounds a minute to minimize barrel wear and overheating.

Data's replicated version of the legendary MG-42 had a brand-new look, given away by its polished maple butt-stock and its painted and polished metal parts in glass black. Its barrel structure had rectangular holes, with its widths in circular hemispheres, in order to rapidly disintegrate excess heat during prolonged rapid fire. Its barrel tip looked very much like a long funnel in a classic megaphone form. The weapon certainly was hi-tech for their days especially that the Germans back in the Second World War were pros ad designing and engineering weapons of war.

This time Data would use this legendary "wonder weapon" against Borg drones. As an android he had more upper body build than even Chaplain Garland simply because of the fairly robust way he was designed. In addition to that, if he had to fire a heavy weapon like the MG-42 "from the hip", his weight could provide more inertia whenever he fired because the inertia would prevent the machine gun's powerful recoil from pushing him over to the point of toppling. This would enable Data to keep a firm footing as he fired the heavy machine gun "from the hip".

Borg drones started swarming progressively around the desperate little group. Several were approaching from their behinds.

"We're being flanked!" cried Kese.

"Got any bright ideas, Mister Data?" called Ben.

"We can make a run for the _K'Mar_'s Main Bridge across this corridor," Data replied loudly. "However, it will require the use of a square tactic form and another incendiary grenade to pave the way.

"So we'll form square, then," said Kese, not bothering to come up with some grand scheme for crossing an invested vessel he had formerly serviced.

"Excellent idea," said Data.

Immediately the little group of four formed square. Data was at the front, Kese was at the back of Data, Ben was at Data's left side, and Felicity was at Data's right. As the weapons firing kept up, Data took the effort to prime another grenade. After throwing it at a clustered area of Borg drones nearest to where the group was positioned, Data fished out his detonator stick and slammed the button. The powerful pyrotechnics blasted yet another opening across the enemy Borg lines.

It was at this opportune moment that the little group made a direct run through enemy lines. They managed to breach their way into the corridor section that headed directly to the main turbolift that leads directly to the _K'Mar_'s Main Bridge. Before crossing that particular section, Commander Kese swiped the keycard on the keycard swiping machine on the door's right side to where Kese was, the prompting the advanced security systems to seal the sliding doors shut, locking them electronically. Then he used the pale-blue pulse laser energy beam on straight laser mode to seal off the doors completely. If the purpose of sealing the doors completely wouldn't be able to keep the Borg at bay forever, at least it would keep the Borg at bay for some significant amount of time long enough for Kese and the little group to activate the _K'Mar_'s main weapons array; at least that was Kese's hope. Finally, Commander Kese initialized a force-field across the door surface itself.

Both Ben and Felicity were hooked in utter astonishment over the unparalleled efficiency of the corridor's security systems. The _Enterprise_ might have had a system similar to that, but this system had a much higher response time. Commander Kese, on the other hand, taking for granted the system's efficiency, simply breathed a sigh of relief.

"Let's go," he said simply.

Felicity simply made a face in response at the Corellian commander over how too busy he was not to appreciate the wonders of his native technological advances. The four continued on through another dark corridor lit only by the small electric blue fluorescent panel lights.

"The main turbolift is only twenty-seven meters from our current position," Kese informed tersely.

"That's a grand relief," said Ben in a wry manner.

Data wasted no time in pulling out his tricorder. "Hallway scanned," he informed. "No other life signs detected."

"Save for ours," Kese added sarcastically.

"Why is that?" asked Felicity.

"Are those 'zombies' setting a trap for us?" asked Ben.

"Quite unlikely," said Kese, still unable to remove himself from his crabby personality. "I made sure that the transporter inhibitor systems are online. Speaking of which..." He stopped himself for one brief moment before pulling out his Corellian electric blue tricorder out of his synthetic purplish leather belt case. Then he popped it open and accessed the complex menu using its touch-screen features. The computerized readings, displayed in a manner and style of the ultra-fancy 21st century Mac iPods, indicated that the transporter inhibitor systems in the corridor they were walking through were indeed online. After making this visual confirmation, Kese snapped his tricorder shut and stuffed it back into his leather belt case.

"How far now?" asked Felicity in a whisper.

"Eleven meters," answered Kese.

The group continued on until they reached the main turbolift entranceway. Because the entire turbolift was shut down, the group would be forced to resort to making a long and dangerous climb up to the Main Battle Bridge. However, Commander Kese had something clever in mind that hopefully would involve restoring power to the main turbolift.

Commander Kese was pretty savvy with technology, especially the technology of his native world. As a result, he seemed to know some, if not all, of the shipboard systems by heart, backwards and forwards, plus his head allowed for a cranial capacity larger than most humans, which allowed him to retain a lot of "volatile memory" in his neurons. With those outstanding assets, he proceeded to solve the turbolift dilemma.

The Corellian commander used his security keycard to access a large vertical rectangular panel on the right hand side of the turbolift entranceway. This panel was used for maintenance purposes that involved turbolift control. Pressing a single physical push-button on the bottom panel he switched on a large plasma screen, and the touch-button keyboard interface lit up, with its typing keys lighting up like hundreds of tiny eyes glowing in the dark, with its satin white phosphorescent outlines. The commander accessed the complex menu on the computer while skillfully manipulating the interface as Felicity and Ben watched in sheer fascination on the constant changes in the screen display. In a few seconds Commander Kese was able to access the main turbolift schematics.

The schematics indicated that all systems for the main turbolift registered fully nominal.

"'Fully nominal'?" asked Ben, a mite perplexed. "But this...this _thing_...is 'dead as a doornail'!"

"It _appears_ that way," retorted the Corellian commander a mite crabbily. "That doesn't mean that it _is_ 'dead as a doornail', or however you put it in _your_ vernacular." Kese continued accessing the interface. "The main turbolift is shut down, but no vital systems appear to be damaged. In other words, the Borg most likely, for some inexplicable reason, never bothered to go out of their way to physically configure the system hardware to _their_ specifications or format."

Felicity made a face to herself over finding herself unable to comprehend the Corellian commander's constant technical jargon as Commander Kese resumed accessing the system interface. Finally Commander Kese was able to access a computer system menu that involved inputting a series of computer-based commands critically necessary to override the turbolift's security systems and thus restore power to the turbolift itself.

Kese slid his security keycard across a horizontal magnetic strip scanner on top of the interface keyboard. Then typing over his keyboard like an adept piano player he inputted a series of command lines in the appropriate screen boxes. In about a minute and a half the security systems were bypassed and the entire turbolift system was finally online.

"It's online now," informed Kese in the same terse manner. Moving over to the main turbolift entranceway, he then pressed a screen-based touch-button with a downward arrow and the small button glowed electric blue and stayed electric blue all over, with a light purple outline. Above the entranceway doors could be seen the computer screen display caption of which decks the turbolift was making its rapid descent, displayed in both the Corellian and English languages. Kese in the meantime switched off the turbolift control panel computer and locked up the panel.

"That's one less loose end," he remarked to himself.

"And what's the other loose end?" asked Ben.

"Activating the _K'Mar_'s main weapon system is what," Kese answered briefly.

Seconds later a loud beep in E-flat resonated in the corridor hall. The main turbolift had finally arrived. The automatic sliding doors slid open and the four made their hasty steps into the turbolift. The doors shut behind them.

Felicity was already shaking, due to the shock of a newfound enemy. Either she was so excited, more than she was scared shitless, or she was just as scared as her best friend Elizabeth would be, and Nan and William, too. "Now…where do we go…from here?" she blubbered, trying to force the last two words out of her own mouth.

"Main Battle Bridge," ordered Kese. The turbolift immediately responded with an upward thrust, propelling the turbolift to the Battle Bridge.

* * *

Meanwhile, three Federations starships in the offensive group converged on the area where the energy lasers penetrated the Borg cube. There seemed to be no more Corellian fighters because they made a retreat jump to warp in some sector other than their homeworld when they thought the battle at hand was going too much in favor of the Borg. An Excelsior class starship, the _U.S.S. Exeter-A_ was tailing the Federations starships, attempting to ascertain where to focus the vessel's firepower.

The ship's captain was William Price. The _Exeter_ he captained was the _Exeter-A_, the ancestor of the original Constitutional Class starship of the 23rd century. As a result, its registration number read NCC-1672-A.

Capt. Price, a bespectacled man in his mid-50s, had a tinge of white hair over his dark blond hair. His circular spectacles made him look pretty elderly, as did his sallow face, etched with worry. Capt. Price did have a tendency to worry a lot, especially about small things, and his list of worries frequently became magnified with the responsibility of captaining a starship and her crew competently and safely as possible .Often he tried hard to overcome his fears, but for some reason harsh realities kept rendering Capt. Prices a consistent pessimist. But pessimism, however, sort of allowed him to make fairly realistic and practical decisions when necessary. There was an exception, however. Whenever he was in a chaotic situation, as the battle of the Corellian Sector, he would accurately take drastic actions.

"Tail those starships!" ordered Capt. Price. "Target all bow phasers in a concentrated pattern across that vessel's wounded spot! Arm the antimatter warheads!"

The _Exeter_'s pale yellow-uniformed tactical officer, a Negroid Franco-American woman by the name of Amanda Becquerel, frequently called Mandy by a fair majority of the crew despite her rank as Lieutenant Commander, was starting to make objections about Capt. Price's rather "reckless" tactic. "Captain, that'll get us too close the Borg cube's most powerful neutralizer beam! If that thing touches us, we'll be fried to goddamn pieces!" The green shield neutralizer beam was among one of the most feared instruments ever to be used by a Borg cube.

"Your objection is noted, Mandy!" he yelled back. "Helm, maintain a hundred and five kilometer distance from that cube! Mandy, pick out the target!"

The tactical officer locked on a particular area of the cube, specially the middle bottom part. "Locked on!" she informed.

"Fire!"

A concentrated pattern of phaser fire from the _Exeter_'s front ventral phaser array of the saucer section spewed out and touched the Borg cube's wounded spot. Six photon torpedoes with class-10 anti-matter warheads installed also fired out of the _Exeter_'s front photon launcher.

The torpedoes immediately impacted on the wounded spot with devastating effect. Great chunks of debris blasts out of the cube, like a majority of its innards were blasted out like hell. The Borg cube was damaged almost heavily, but unfortunately was not totally destroyed and it can still function minimally.

Suddenly one of the Borg cube's green beams targeted the only Defiant class starship in the active offensive group, the _U.S.S. Ranger_. The vessel lost control and as a result ended up crashing into the rear end of the saucer section of the _Exeter_.

* * *

While in the turbolift of the Corellian Battle Cruiser _K'Mar_ Commander Kese proceeded to explain in brief the procedure of the shipboard weapons array and how to go about activating it. But this he did only when asked, because he really didn't feel like doing it, even if he was proceeding to do so.

"So...how does it work?" asked Ben.

"Oh, you won't understand it," said Kese in utter exasperation, crossing his arms. "It's too complicated."

"We just want to hear you say it," said Felicity a little bitingly. It was more of a rude demand rather than a polite request. "That gives us something to do while waiting to plunge ourselves into danger."

"Oh, if you wish," snapped Kese. He cast a long hard stare at the two children. After clearing his throat, he began.

"Wouldn't it be better if we just show you instead of tell you...?"

"Commander..." said Ben disapprovingly. "Just tell us."

"Oh, fine!" He cleared his throat again. "Not that you'll understand it anyway..." He first had to give the matter some thought before explaining the procedure to them...in the simplest way possible.

"When we get to the Main Battle Bridge, the first thing I have to do is slide my security keycard into the appropriate console. Then the next best thing to do is to access the system settings while bringing the main weapons system online."

Kese stole a quick nervous glance at the elevator level display before resuming his explanations.

"Now...the Corellian Capital Cruiser _K'Mar_...is equipped with a main weapon on the dorsal area that comprises of a set of three artillery "barrels", if you will, that generates a single ten-gigawatt high-energy laser beam. Its activation matrix leads to the second level of the tower, the level after the Main Battle Bridge; and by _after_ I mean _over_. When the laser beam comes in direct contact with another vessel, it can cause significant structural damage. The energy is generated by huge power cells that will have to be replaced periodically."

"How many times would you have to use the super-weapon to destroy a single Borg cube?" asked Data.

"At least four times," said Kese. "It's the best we could come up with."

"Has it been done before?" asked Ben. This was the first time. If they screwed up, their last chance could be blown away if the Borg adapted or if the _K'Mar_ got destroyed, or if they got assimilated.

"Most likely not. We _have_, however, tested the superlaser system with most of our derelict vessels. It might be tricky, however, because the Borg can adapt to most technological wonders. Unless you use replicated projectiles, and this super-weapon _isn't_ going to produce _replicated_ laser beams."

In a few seconds the turbolift made a heavy jolt in braking and the dulcet turbolift chime resonated in the turbolift. The automatic sliding doors opened at moderate speed.

"There we are," said Kese huffily. He readied his disruptor rifle. "Weapons at the ready. Don't know what's luring behind us." The group did what the Corellian commander told them. Keeping their replicated firearms at the ready, the group proceeded cautiously through the darkened Battle Bridge.

Very soon Commander Kese stumbled across the station area right of the Battle Bridge's two-seater cockpit, where supposedly the controls to the _K'Mar_'s superlaser system were located. Kese fished out his flashlight and after stumbling around to find a physical button to switch on the hardware, he activated the computer systems. The computer screens lit up, but it took about two minutes for the system to be fully booted.

By that point in time, however, the group heard a loud, resounding banging sound of the turbolift doors. "Borg," said Commander Kese nervously. This frightening thought spurred him to work faster and harder at the same time. "Come on!" he yelled at the computer, trying desperately to get the system to work harder and faster, too.

Another bang on the turbolift entrance doors was heard. By the time the workstation system was booted, Commander Kese swiped his security keycard directly on the right-hand panel of the workstation. After taking his seat on one of the synthetic black leather workstation personnel chairs, he proceeded to access the system using his savvy computer skills. Very soon he had the entire superlaser system online. At this point, much to the horror of both Felicity and Ben, a grayish cybernetic hand protruded out between the doors. That hand was followed by another set of hands, which curled themselves over the edges, working together to pry the turbolift entrance doors wide open.

"Mr. Data, what should we do?" asked Ben, this time feeling a bit scared, too. Felicity was too horrified even to think.

"Shoot them," said Data, looking back. After throwing his duffel bag full of ammunition for the replicated firearms that the group brought with them, he resumed assisting the Corellian commander with activating the super-weapon systems.

Immediately both Felicity and Ben fired their weapons at the protruding cybernetic hands. The hands received damage by the impact of the replicated shrapnel, which they had great difficulty adapting to, since the shrapnel wasn't real and they couldn't adapt to things that were "unreal" or holographic. But with enough hands to spare, and a number of bodies to throw into the fray, the Borg finally managed to get the turbolift entrance doors wide open.

"Commander, I thought we'd be protected by that force...force...thing!" cried Felicity.

"When did _I_ promise that?" asked Kese.

"You just said..."

"The transport inhibitor system only stops Borg drones from beaming randomly into the Main Battle Bridge! I didn't guarantee that it would stop Borg drones from barging into the Bridge entrance by turbolift shaft! Be thankful that they don't beam behind you!"

Immediately after Kese inputted an authorization code he opened a top panel and grabbed two security keys.

"Each of us have to insert these keys into the primary ignition box," Kese informed tersely. Both Data and the eccentric Corellian Bridge Commander inserted the two keys simultaneously into the ignition box. Now that the system was engaged, Data inputted the coordinates for the firing grid given by Capt. Picard, since due to Picard's previous assimilation into the Borg Picard knew the vulnerable systems fairly well. After Data then monitored the status of the power cells, he turned his head to the visual indicator for the artillery barrels, which were shown elevating, as the barrels really were outside the cruiser.

"Ready on your mark," said Data.

"Fire!" ordered Kese.

Data pressed the firing touch-button and the first strike was initiated. Outside on the dorsal area of the Corellian cruiser the artillery barrels fired off three ultra-powerful electric blue laser beams from their firing tips. Milliseconds later the beams made direct impact on the third lead Borg cube, causing critical damage to the Borg vessel itself.

"Power cells are down to eighty-five percent," informed Data.

* * *

On board the _U.S.S. Exeter_…

The spinning-out-of-control Defiant class starship, _U.S.S. Ranger_, crashed into the rear end of the saucer section. Debris got blown out into space, as do a handful of crew personnel.

"Captain, we've been hit!" shouted helmsman Marshall.

Meanwhile, the entire ship was on continuous red alert. In one of the starboard side corridors of the _Exeter_'s saucer section a fair-skinned girl was making her rush through the congestion in frantic haste in the blinking corridor chaotic and filled with evacuating personnel. The girl was twelve years of age, and she was in a rather outdated 20th century outfit from planet Earth that comprised of a scarlet-red long-sleeved shirt and semi-tight navy-blue jeans. Her hazel-brown eyes darted back and forth, helping her avoid bumping into other rushing personnel, and her wavy dark-blonde hair was caught in the winds made by her run across the corridor itself. She was on her way to the Main Bridge.

Her name was Dakota Price. She was the only daughter of Capt. William Price. Dakota lost her mother when she died in a fire accident on board the _Exeter_. Whatever motherly guidance that should have gone to Dakota was absent, so as a result she could sometimes act spoiled, occasionally at a rather unpredictable moment.

Meanwhile on the Main Bridge, Capt. Price was issuing orders for coordinating the vessel in the offensive against the Borg. Suddenly the ship was hit for what seemed to be like the third time, and some falling debris killed the captain as the Bridge took moderate damage. As extensive as the damage was, it was not enough to wholly cripple most of the Bridge systems. The _Exeter_'s first officer is beamed into the Borg ship.

Personnel were frantically chattering over to one another, anxious to glean whatever they could of a chaotic situation in battle. The Borg had just damaged some structures of the _Exeter_ and killed off some of its crew, so everyone was working in a hurried rush to account for structural shipboard damage and potential casualties. Aside from that, the Bridge personnel were struggling desperately to call in repairmen to quickly fix up some damaged circuitry and medical personnel to revive unconscious personnel or hurry casualties to sickbay.

Dakota darted her head back and forth in search for her father. There seemed to be no sign of him. Her mind was conflicted over whether to search for him or take command of the _Exeter_ in his absence. Taking command of a starship at such a young age was a daring and ambitious objective, but Dakota wasn't inclined to do this right away, not while searching for her father. She would if he wasn't there, and she would do it for an inexplicable viewpoint that "somebody really needs to…or wants to".

But if she had trouble, Dakota would ask. So she stepped onto the Main Bridge of the _Exeter_, determined to go search for her father, and if he wasn't there in her life, then she would take command of the ship on an offensive against the final Borg cube.

"What the hell are you doing?" asked the helmsman Eugene Marshall.

"Where is Papa?" demanded Dakota in her native British Cockney accent.

"Baby, I'm afraid…you're daddy's died," replied Lt. Mandy rather sorrowfully. Her deep South accent conveyed a genuine sadness for a daughter's loss and the loss of a captain she served for quite a long time.

"He got snagged by falling debris on this Bridge," added the helmsman Eugene Marshall.

The tactical officer just cast a hard stare at him as if wanting to get back at helmsman Marshall in case he said something about Capt. Price's, or anything about Capt. Price's daughter that she would consider from her own point of view to be tactless.

Those words hit Dakota really hard. Her mother had died in a horrible fire accident on board the _Exeter_, and now her father died in the battle against the Borg. Now she was suddenly orphaned.

Dakota hated the idea; she was told by some crewman on the _Exeter_ that orphan children were considered too young, at least in a mental sense to even fend for themselves, but Dakota had already learned to some extent to fend for herself in her father's absence. But the prospect of being viewed as nothing but a complete helpless child, especially seconds after the death of her father, seemed to get pretty appalling to her. Now poor Dakota was questioning the intentions of Starfleet over whether putting her father in charge of a starship was really worth the loss that she had to endure. Was Starfleet an orphan-maker?

"So what the hell are you doing here?" asked helmsman Marshall, as he mpped the sweat off his forehead where the bangs of his neatly combed hazel-brown hair were.

"I'm here to take command," said Dakota quite bluntly.

The chain of command was immediately assessed. The ship's captain was dead, the first officer was captured by the Borg, and the rest of the senior staff was either totally unavailable or incapacitated. Someone would have to take over.

At least in Dakota Price's point of view.

"I'm the daughter of Capt. Price!" she exclaimed.

"Just 'cause you're the daughter of Capt. Price, doesn't mean you're all that qualified," seethed the helmsman, trying to control himself.

"Well, _I_ will have to do at the moment, given that we have no Captain and First officer! so if you don't get that ship moving, I'll personally decompress the entire Bridge!"

"That would be better, given that assimilation by the Borg would be a hell of a lot worse," the helmsman quipped in a rather casual manner. As if his own life and the rest of the lives of the _Exeter_ didn't really matter to hum that much, at least on a personal level. Besides, that Dakota was getting to be a pain in his ass.

Dakota was now furious. Ever since her mother died in a horrible fire accident on board the _Exeter_ she became more and more inclined to have her own way. The only example she could look up to was her father, and even he had a penchant for getting his way, too, especially that he was a Starfleet captain. But sometimes Dakota would occasionally be reminded by her father that she was not in a position of authority, and that if she could not always have everything her way, to which Dakota hotly retorted that if she _was_ in a position of authority she would have everything her way. Now that Capt. Price was dead, she was determined to fill in the gap that the captain had left in the ship, even if her mental faculties were limited as a child.

"If both of you don't get the ship going, I'll personally see to it that you face assimilation by those goddamn zombies!," she snarled. "Now back to work!" she yelled. "_All_ of you!"

But the rest of the Bridge personnel started their own little insurrection by just not doing anything. Looks of smug satisfaction were conveyed to Dakota. They would have to be somewhat persuaded at minimum to let the ambitious determined Dakota Price take command of the _Exeter_. The youngest child ever to take command of a vessel in Earth history was David Farragut, and ships of his day were really not that easy to handle, especially captured enemy ships, so David really had a tough time. The huge difference, however, lay with the technological design of the ship. Dakota was not asking to handle an ordinary ship of Earth's seas. She was asking to handle a starship, and handling a starship in her day would be complicated in the sense that she would need to master almost all the engineering and mathematical aspects of handling and navigating one in order to captain a starship competently.

Seeing that Dakota was too young to fully take command, and very under-qualified, it was certainly no surprise that the Bridge personnel refused. But the _Exeter_'s tactical officer seemed to have something special in mind for this young lady.

"I agree she's too young to have full command of this ship," agreed Mandy, as she plaited her long curly black hair before making some sort of suggestion. "But...we can let her lead...I think."

"What?" exclaimed the helmsman incredulously, as if he couldn't believe what Mandy was saying. "She's gonna mess things up! We're already in _shit_ here as we speak and she's gonna let us drown in it by her _brat_-tiness even more than..."

"Watch yourself, Marshall!" scolded the crewwoman in blonde. "This is Captain Price's daughter you're talking to! You can't...!"

"The hell with that crap!" retorted Marshall. "You can't silence me over that bullshit just 'cause you want to! You, Miss Jones, are just too damn loyal to Captain Price, which is why _you're_ so damn quick to rush to his daughter's side, and justify her leading this ship just 'cause she's the captain's daughter! My God, woman! Of all the _bullshit_ I'm listening to here...!"

"Shut up, Marshall!" retorted the same crewwoman, casting a furious glare at the helmsman. "Loyalty has nothing to do with this!" We need someone to lead..."

"Pick me, then!" the helmsman cut in again. "I'm sure as hell can run this ship better than this _brat_ can!"

"Really?" challenged Mandy.

"Well...um...yeah," replied the helmsman rather awkwardly. "I guess."

The Bridge personnel became pretty indecisive and frustrated at this point, and everyone looked like they were going to start pointing fingers at each other.

"We can let her have a try, under my supervision," Mandy suggested.

"Dakota is a _brat_, just like her father, in case _you_ haven't noticed," pointed out the helmsman rather tactlessly in a loud tone of voice, sounding very opinionated about himself. "I'd probably think twice before serving under her command. In fact I'd be inclined to chuck her out of the airlock if she starts yelling over my face. And as the tactical officer, you, little sister, are supposed to be next in command!"

"Don't call me 'little sister'!" snapped Mandy. "What you say may be true, but I'm not about to squelch the little girl's ambitions...!"

"The hell with 'em!" shouted a black man in red uniform. "The safety of this vessel comes first before...!"

"Yeah!" cut in another crewman. "You're putting our lives at risk just so that you can let her treat this vessel as her toy!"

The whole debate erupted into a heated quarrelling fest. It seemed at this point that the Bridge personnel would start killing each other over the issue of letting a little girl take command of a starship. Mandy knew she would have to put a stop to this argument before it got even more out of hand, especially that they still had the last Borg cube to fight.

"Enough!" Mandy yelled. The hubbub immediately quieted down.

"I've seen her in the holodeck," she said to the crew in a terse manner.

"Yeah, as if the holodeck will do much good to persuade me..." began helmsman Marshall, before Amanda cut him off by holding up her right hand as an indication that he should just shut his face.

"I've seen her in the holodeck. She was able to handle a hardcore version of a starship disaster scenario. Wasn't exactly worst case, but that's certainly a hell of a lot more than what you people on this Bridge can say about any human child who handles a simulated version of a situation like this on hardcore. It's quite possible that Dakota may err, but with guidance...and some fair support...she might be able to pull this off. Besides, if I'm in command, who's going to competently handle the shipboard weapons?"

The Bridge personnel simply remained silent, crossing their arms, offering no explanations or excuses. Allowing Dakota to take command of the _Exeter_ meant that they would be entrusting their lives to her, something that they were just not ready to do. However, if nobody was going to lend a hand, who would? And someone would have to decide fast.

A middle-aged crewwoman heaved an exasperated sigh over this trivial bickering. "I'd do what she says," she said. "It's a matter of life and death situation, and personally, I'd rather die fighting the Borg than face assimilation." Right now this crewwoman felt that she can only trust Dakota up to a certain point, but given the situation, she decides to give the girl a try.

She turned to face Dakota, from being seated on her starboard Bridge wall console. "Waiting on your word, '_commander'_," she said to her with great sarcasm. As if a twelve-year-old would be up to such a demanding task as commanding a Starfleet space vessel, even without the necessary technological know-how.

The crewwoman might have given lip service to lending support to this new ship captain, but it was helmsman Marshall who decided to both bring closure to the dilemma and mark the occasion by lending his ship-steering abilities to this young ambitious pre-teen girl. His giving-in lay behind his viewpoint that it would have been rather pointless for him to argue against Dakota taking command of the _Exeter_, and his arguments would have precipitated even more pointless and violent argument among the Bridge personnel.

"Course laid in," said helmsman Marshall.

The _Exeter_ cruised forward on the offensive against the third and last Borg cube, along with the fleet.

"The Borg have just been hit by one of our allied alien's weapons array, so that's where we'll start punching while they're still vulnerable," announced Dakota.

"But you'll have to face the fact that we can only hit the Borg cube certain times before they get into a position where they're least vulnerable," the helmsman tried to warn Dakota. "Even before we can hit them completely to the point of total destruction, we'll run out of torpedoes _and_ phaser power."

"Then we'll let every precious shot count, won't we, Lieutenant," retorted Dakota determinedly. "While we can."

"Sounds so damn simple; isn't there any sort of strategy involved?" asked the NAV operator at the right hand side of the Main Bridge, manning his NAV console.

"It's…it's about our only strategy for now," said Dakota. "Let's do it."

"Yup," the Navigator had to agree. As if he had to, just for the sake of pacifying Dakota. "If we're gonna die anyway, might as well spray and pray like heck."

The _Exeter_ immediately powered up its weapons array. It started firing both phaser beams and photon torpedoes with powerful warheads. The _Exeter_ in turn got hit by a fair number of gravimetric torpedoes and shield-draining beams. The torpedoes homed in on the _Exeter_ like a swarm of angry hornets, causing fairly significant structural damage to its outer hulls structures. The volley was already so devastating to the ship that fires were started in many room areas near the hull walls. The constant impact kept throwing personnel off their feet with every violent jolt, which frustrated Dakota even more because it interfered with her thinking process.

* * *

Meanwhile on the _K'Mar_ the little group was struggling with both holding the Borg at bay while they attempted to bring the battle cruiser's main weapons array online. Both Felicity and Ben were having a hell of a time fending off the Borg drones. Or so it seemed.

Because Ben at this point, while trying to spruce up this little moment with a pinch of humor, was (sarcastically) talking about trivial things. Things like measuring his kill rate and the number of Borg drones he managed to decommission with his replicated Springfield M1 Carbine.

"Oh, no," grumbled Ben quite loudly.

"What is it?" asked Felicity.

"I've lost count of my kills!"

"Ben! How can you think of something like that in the middle of a fight?"

On the third try, the main artillery guns were forced to draw electrical power from the ship's backup generators.

"The weapons array has to divert power from the backup generators," informed Commander Kese.

"Can you perform that function remotely from the bridge?" asked Data.

"Yes. This entire station was designed for that purpose."

Felicity's Thompson SMG fired its last ammo clip. "Mr. Data, I've run out of ammunition!" shouted Felicity.

Immediately Data unzipped his huge duffel bag and threw a Russian PPSh-41 submachine gun, along with an extra three drum ammo clips compatible for that firearm. The PPSh had a maple buttstock, and its "skeletal" parts, including the rectangular-holed barrel used for heat dissipation seemed to be painted in charcoal black.

"It's fairly powerful and the weapon is set on semi-automatic!" Data informed Felicity quite loudly to her. "So shoot with accuracy!"

Felicity gulped back and conveyed a rather nervous nod of her head back to Data. "I'll try!" she responded loudly.

Felicity threw away the Thompson SMG and seized the replicated PPSh. She took aim and squeezes a couple of shots. However the recoil was too great for her to take.

"Oh!" Felicity exclaimed in vented frustration.

* * *

The _U.S.S. Exeter_ kept up the battle with the Borg cube.

"The Borg vessel seems to be losing structural integrity on their starboard side," informed the helmsman. This was in reference to the particular side of the Borg cube that received the first blast of the superweapon from the Corellian Battle Cruiser _K'Mar_.

"Are they!" challenged Dakota.

"It appears so," said the helmsman quite simply.

Dakota observed the Borg cube from the view-screen as carefully as she could with her observant hazel-brown eyes. Then an idea came to her.

"We must take advantage of their weakness. Stand by all forward phaser banks and photon torpedoes," she ordered quickly.

"Respectfully, ma'am, it could be a trap," the Navigator tried to warn her.

"I suppose it could," Dakota had to agree. "But I'm going to take a chance, given that we're on the verge of death as we already are. Take us in."

"Right on, Sarge."

The _Exeter_ maneuvered to the area where the Borg cube is heavily damaged. In a nimble manner Lt. Mandy pulls back her long curly noodle black hair. She immediately tapped her combadge.

"Bridge to Engineering!" she yelled.

"Gene here," came the reply of a rather sarcastic middle-aged man with a Southern drawl over the comm. Gene was the Chief Engineer's last name.

"Larry boy, has another batch of class-10s been prepped?" asked Mandy.

"Yes, ma'am!" replied the Chief Engineer rather excitedly. "They're just about locked and loaded!" Chief Engineer Larry Gene had a thick beard in his face.

Lt. Mandy turned to the view-screen.

"Fire on the captain's mark!"

"Wasn't the captain killed?" asked the Chief Engineer in a rather sarcastic tone of voice.

"Yeah," replied Mandy as she returned the blunt sarcasm. "We got ourselves a brand-new one. Straight from Sears, and it's a twelve-year-old girl. Captain's daughter. Don't bother asking; just do as you're told."

"Dakota Price? That _brat_?" In the past, Dakota was known to have her way with almost anything that the Chief Engineer would sometimes get pissed whenever he saw her in the Engineering section of the _Exeter_.

"'Fraid so, commander," said Mandy in a rather wry manner. "She's not gonna give up this ship. And I don't got the time to have a personal quarrel with her over the chain of command."

"Well, whoever she is, she'd better be competent at what she's doing right now! We're in _shitty_ circumstances here! And _I mean shitty_!"

"Count on that," replied Mandy. She turned to Dakota. "Miss Price, command to launch all weapons is left to you, though personally I'd suggest the coordinates of 516 bearing 713."

"Input that into the firing sequence," Dakota ordered right away, without so much as second thought.

For the time being, Dakota would have to have some faith in the _Exeter_'s tactical officer, since Amanda Becquerel seemed to be an expert in these matters. Dakota is just commanding.

"Tactical Officer Mandy would be better off in command of this ship than that brat," remarked the helmsman rather tactlessly.

"Shut up, Marshall!" yelled Mandy. I'm not interested in starting a mutiny here!

Command of the _Exeter_ was what would have been in mind for ambitious people. But Lt. Mandy's main objective is to fight the Borg, not start a mutiny. At this point Mandy was willing to sacrifice personal ambition for the greater good, even if it means leaving the ship in command of a twelve-year-old just to have a commander for the _Exeter_ during the most tragically troubling of times in battle. She hoped dearly that she wouldn't get the _Exeter_ out of the frying pan and into the fire.

"Done," informed the tactical officer personally to Dakota.

"In range?" prompted Dakota.

"Almost," said Mandy. "Three seconds…now we're in range."

"Lock on and fire on my mark," ordered the girl.

"Been there, done that!" replied Mandy.

"Fire!" ordered Dakota.

Dakota seemed to have employed her late father's tactics. A similar barrage of firepower her father had unleashed against the cube before his death impacted on the Borg cube's heavily damaged area.

In retaliation the Borg cube unleashed an ultra-powerful energy beam against the _Exeter_. The _Exeter_ has its warp nacelles hit by a Borg energy beam. Across the ship, klaxons could be heard, bleeping the ominous warning words WARNING: WARP CORE BREACH.

The _Enterprise_ immediately intervened by beaming Dakota and the bridge personnel, including any other survivors, out of the vessel. The _Exeter_'s saucer section got penetrated by another Borg energy beam, seconds before the entire vessel spontaneously ruptured and exploded into a gigantic white fireball.

Not only did Dakota Price survive, she rose to the occasion.

Was she proving herself to be some sort of child prodigy?

* * *

Lt. Commander Data and Corellian Bridge Commander Kese were already in the midst of preparing for what seemed to be a fourth attempt to use the _K'Mar_'s superlaser system to destroy the last remaining Borg cube. Data inputted the final firing coordinates into the system grid.

"Coordinates inputted," Data informed promptly.

"Visual lock-on on the last cube confirmed," added Kese. He cast a hard stare at the quizzical-looking android. "This is it," he said with a tone of finality. "Our final shot before our seemingly last power core depletes."

"Affirmative, sir," agreed Data. "Whenever you're ready."

Commander Kese pressed the firing touch-button with his right hand index finger, and he pressed it real hard. Outside the ship the electric blue beams fired off the superlaser tips hurled straight at the last remaining Borg cube. They touched the cube's heavily damaged spot. It was like shooting bullets into an animal's wounded side. When the ultra-powerful beams made penetrating contact, the entire vessel accelerated to critical conditions. These critical conditions led to the vessel's spontaneous explosion.

Both Felicity and Ben were mesmerized in shock and awe over the explosion, as if they had never witnessed an explosion that was nearly ten times more powerful than a gunpowder explosion on a British frigate.

"Beautiful sight…Lissie…" Ben said nearly to himself in complete awe. Felicity's mouth was agape, just as Ben's was.

All four in the group resumed to being witnesses of the spectacle as pieces of the third and last remaining Borg cube floated slowly in scattering motion across the vastness and emptiness of space.

* * *

And now for yet another overdose of Author's Notes:

A/N (1): "Right hand belt case" refers to a type of case worn at one's belt, whether left hand side or right hand side. Right up until the earlier part of the 21st century it was a common fashion for men and women to carry their cell phones, iPods, and Blackberrys in cases like that. In Commander Kese's case, his case was made of synthetic Corellian leather.

A/N (2): Minimal description of the MG-42 Berlin heavy machine gun was from Wikipedia dot org. Some of its skeletal info was from the same website as well.

A/N (3): The thermal detonator is activated by twisting the top side in a clockwise direction. (Idea derived from the movie _Serenity_.)

A/N (4): The description of Capt. William Price's appearance holds similarities to the actor that plays the father of Leslie Burke from the recent movie version of _Bridge to Teribithia_.) His eyes are focused on the screen, and at the same time, shouting orders across the Bridge.

A/N (5): The character Dakota Price is directly modeled after the South Kensington actress Dakota Blue Richards from _The Golden Compass _movie. The British accent that Dakota Price speaks is Cockney, to be specific, the Southern Estuary English, which accordingly is the same type of accent that Dakota might speak in. I think… (But I'm not sure, really…)

A/N (6): The name "Amanda", aside from being the Latin term for "worthy of love", also happens to be the Sanskrit name for "active" or "bright". The second meaning applies more to the Amanda featured in _ST-TNG: Souvenirs_ because of her featured personality in this particular chapter.

A/N (7): The youngest child ever to take command of a vessel in Earth history was David Farragut, and ships of his day were really not that easy to handle, especially captured enemy ships, so David really had a tough time. – Tribute to Admiral David Farragut, who in his childhood was able to command a captured enemy vessel during the War of 1812.

A/N (8): Originally I was going to have Felicity use the Italian Beretta Model 38 (Moschetto Automatico Beretta 38A), but I decided to have her use the Russian PPSh-41 (_Pistolet Pulmeyot Shpagina_, or Shpagin Machine Pistol). I discovered that the PPSh has a larger ammo drum capacity, which is handy for Borg drones (if you're using a replicated version), and from watching a couple of YouTube videos of live action fire of the PPSh, it fires pretty rapidly. The reason for featuring the PPSh is beause it seems to be the most recognizable firearm in WWII history on the Eastern front, and it's also possible that I sort of wanted to patronize Russian firearms. Part of the reason behind the mentioning lay behind the aesthetic details of the firearm itself; it looks a little more elegant and effective than the Moschetto...I think.

If you happen to find anything particularly questionable about Dakota Price taking command of the _Exeter_, feel free to give comment.


	55. Chapter 55

_**Star Trek: The Next Generation – Souvenirs**_

**Written By:**_** Commander Cody CC-2224**_

CHAPTER 55

The elations of sweet victory hard-earned by the bold risk-taking, the frustrations, and the constant struggle of Data, Kese, Felicity, and Ben in overcoming all obstacles, including their fears to defeat the Borg, suddenly became short-lived. In an instant three Borg drones beamed directly onto the Main Battle Bridge of the _K'Mar_. Immediately Ben fired off a handful of live M1 Carbine rounds into the lead drone's neck area, scoring an instant kill in the process. It was then that Ben had used up the last of the M1 rounds.

"Mr. Data!" Ben called desperately. "Is there any more ammunition?"

"Negative, sir," replied Data quite loudly.

That being the case, Felicity was forced to resort to her PPSh submachine gun. After loading a single clip into the feed system, she proceeded to resume firing the weapon again. However, the gun jammed because of the improper way she loaded it.

Ben was then forced to reckon the situation with the drones in hand-to-hand combat. Using the butt of his M1 Carbine he struck a drone's head with a single swinging strike. The other drone attempted to assimilate him but Ben tripped him up and the drone stumbled onto the shiny hard floor. Taking advantage of the drone's brief vulnerability Ben used a Bowie knife to stab it in the back, putting the drone out of commission, with electrical sparks flying out of his fried parts dramatically.

However, it seemed that the first drone that Ben reckoned with wasn't exactly out of commission. That particular drone was already making its advance at her and was on the verge of assimilating her using the nanotubes of its right hand, but Ben managed to slap it away. The drone, however, was equipped with assimilation nanotubes on its left hand, and instinctively used them to touch Ben.

Though Both Felicity and Data didn't realize it right away, Ben was already assimilated by the Borg. He had just received the first shot. But at that point Data intervened by getting a grip on the drone and dislocating its neck, finally putting it out of commission. Then he immediately checked the internal sensors and was sort of relieved that it was the last of the Borg drones than would have to deal with at the moment.

Then Ben started to shake and beg for help.

"Lissie…help me…" he groaned.

Immediately he succumbed to a fit of convulsive shaking as his skin turned to a blackish-purplish color in a disturbingly rapid manner. Taking immediate notice of something going horribly wrong with Ben, Felicity rushed to his side.

"Ben? Ben?" Felicity cried out frantically. She started to panic. Immediately she rushed to Data to inform him of the already serious and disturbing predicament that Ben was already in right now. Data took notice of Ben's plight and immediately came to one conclusion.

Ben was turning into a Borg.

Felicity was on the verge of tears. "Ben! Ben!" she wailed. She could not help but feel horrified at Ben's gradual but steady transformation. From what she heard from Chaplain Garland, a newly assimilated being would gradually lose consciousness. He would become a mindless entity, completely alien to her and her friends and all of humanity.

"Oh, dear God," she whimpered. She turned her head right away to data. "Oh, God! What's happening to him?"

"He is undergoing the Borg assimilation process," Data replied rather vigorously. "He requires immediate medical attention." Instinctively he slapped his combadge to radio a call for help to the _Enterprise_.

"Data to Picard," he called.

Almost instantaneously his call was answered by the captain of the _Enterprise_. "Go ahead," replied Picard.

There was no time to exchange formal pleasantries, much less elaborate details of the current situation on board the _K'Mar_. So Data decided to be brief on conveying the situation at hand.

"Mr. Davidson has been assimilated by a Borg drone. He needs immediate medical attention ASAP." For the while just mentioning Ben's current medical condition to the captain of the _Enterprise_ would, well, speed things up, for Ben, at the very least.

"ASAP?" asked Felicity in a rather clueless manner. Even in the midst of trauma, foreign acronyms could seem to get her attention.

"Stand by," answered Picard in instruction. "We'll beam him directly to sick bay. Then we'll beam you and Miss Merriman to an area in Deck 10, twenty-five meters from the Guest Quarters."

"Any particular reason for not initiating a direct beaming into the Guest Quarters?" asked Data rather curiously.

"The Guest Quarters, along with any adjacent areas, are protected by transporter inhibitor systems," replied the captain.

Commander Kese was not about to simply let Data ignore him by leaving him on board the _K'Mar_; at least not after what he and the group had been through.

"What about _me_, too?" asked Commander Kese a little tetchily.

Data immediately tapped his combadge again. "Make that _three_ to beam up," he ordered.

"Understood."

Immediately Ben's assimilating body was beamed from the Main Battle Bridge. Felicity only stared in a mixture of shock, wonder, and terror over what would become of Ben at the area where Ben's body was beamed up.

"What if I want to go with him?" she squeaked.

Data tapped his combadge again. "Captain, the human female requests that she go with Mr. Davidson."

"Permission denied," was Picard's answer. "She will pose as a serious impediment to the medical personnel, especially that there are other casualties in sick bay. She'll get her chance to see Mr. Davidson when the sick bay isn't very busy. Besides, she could end up distracting the personnel."

"Acknowledged," answered Data. Felicity's status as a VIP from her time could make an already tense and busy situation worse if people started clamoring as to who she was and how she got there and that would foul up operations in the medical areas.

"In the meantime," continued the captain, "We'll beam you, the Corellian officer, and Miss Merriman to Deck 10. Escort her to her quarters and have the officer confined to the brig for security purposes and report to sick bay. Dr. Crusher is going to need your expertise in order to save Mr. Davidson."

"Yes, Captain. Data out."

Felicity, Data, and Commander Kese were beamed out of the Corellian cruiser's Main Battle Bridge.

* * *

The trio was beamed directly to what would appear as the starboard side of the _Enterprise_'s saucer section right around Deck 10, where the Guest Quarters were located. As the two proceeded down the hall, where the only scene comprised of moving heavy defense equipment and moving the living casualties of the battle against the Borg on stretchers which would then be taken to various sickbay areas across the ship, possibly adjacent to the Main Sickbay itself, Felicity was bickering with Data over not being allowed to go with Ben, much less see him if not be with him during his every moment confined to the sickbed in order to be with him every step of the way. In fact it was already at this point that Commander Kese, annoyed with all this bickering beyond his tolerance levels, which were otherwise short for a handful of Corellians like him, simply decided to vent his spleen to himself on a more personal matter through his soliloquy, "Would this _brat_ of a human female child just shut her gaping mouth?" to which he used a vulgar expression of the word "kiester" in his native Corellian tongue, which was what he said his entire soliloquy in.

As the three made their way through the Deck 10 hallway Felicity started to feel tears welling in her eyes. But she was far too mad even to cry. Furiously she questioned Data for what Picard said about her not being able to go with Ben to the sick bay area.

"_What_ do you _mean_, I will _pose_ as a serious _impediment_ to the _doctors_?" she railed at him, as he gripped the middle of her PPSh with her clenched right hand. "What _difference_ does it _make_?"

"Madame, because of your current status as a real entity from the colonial period, it will distract the doctors because they'll want to get a glimpse of you in the midst of their operations," Data answered her fluently and emotionlessly at the same time. "That would prove to be fatal to Mr. Davidson, as well to the rest of the Starfleet personnel who are suffering serious injuries during their encounter with the Borg."

"I _don't_ under_stand_! What difference will _I_ make?"

"Your behavior is quite different from the conventional behavior of most children in the 24th century," said Data. "Also, you will get in the way. We cannot afford to take that risk."

Felicity hung her head hopelessly in sadness.

"I suggest we get you properly dressed," said Kese. "We shall take you to your quarters. Your friends and siblings are anxious for you.

Felicity scoffed in rebellion. Kese only cast a direct look of disapproval, which forced her to submit to him for the time being with a silent nod. Then the two made their way to the Guest Quarters. Data rang the door chime and Elizabeth's voice is heard.

"Um…Come…" she called out loud rather timidly.

The two entered to find Elizabeth pointing an AK-47 at them. Seated at the back of the desk was Chaplain Garland, who was aiming his MG-42 at them on the bipod. Data made a rather sincere attempt to reassure her.

"It is all right, Miss Cole," he said.

Upon recognizing both Data and her best friend, Elizabeth slowly but cautiously lowered her guard.

"I apologize for my abrupt leave, but I am due to report to sick bay," said Data. "The Chaplain will look after you."

The children nodded silently, one at a time. Data and the Corellian officer immediately left the room and the room the automatic sliding doors close. Elizabeth found Felicity crying.

"Lissie…are you all right?" asked Elizabeth in a tone of concern.

"Something…something happened to Ben," Felicity sobbed. "According to Mr. Data, he is being transformed into one of those monsters we encountered."

As if he happened to overhear Elizabeth by mere chance, Chaplain Garland dropped all minor maintenance on his RPD and shouldered his AK-47.

"He's been transformed, then, has he," the Chaplain croaked quite sadly. He simply hung his head, as if he ran out of over options to do nearly anything to resolve the situation at hand.

"Oh, dear God," said Elizabeth with great concern. "I didn't…I didn't know that…" She looked at her best friend with great earnestness.

"Where's Ben?" asked Nan with a rather forlorn look.

Now William was beginning to feel a mite scared. In a mixture of disheartenment and exasperation, Felicity felt as though she wants to reply, "Weren't you listening?". At the same time, however, Felicity does not feel like answering her younger sister's question, just simply because she thought Nan would never understand. Besides, Nan really was not told beforehand where Ben was, and Felicity couldn't answer her younger sister other than to mention him being at the hospital, to which Nan would ask even more questions that Felicity wouldn't feel like answering at this moment. At this point it would have been to much for Felicity to handle mentally, since she herself was fraught with worry and grief over Ben. So Elizabeth decided to answer for Felicity.

"It seems…that Ben is being taken…to the hospital, Nan," she said to the little girl before turning to Felicity. "Come on. "Let's get you changed into something…proper." She started picking up Felicity's yellow, cream-colored gown, the one she wore all the time since their start on board the _Enterprise_.

"But _why_?" asked Nan rather worriedly. "Why is Ben being taken…to the hospital?"

"What _is_ the hospital?" asked William in innocent inquisitiveness.

There was no time to answer both Nan's and William's questions. Suddenly the Borg Queen beamed directly into the Guest Quarters (made her uninvited entrance), along with two Borg drones. All five of the children were now scared shitless as they were never scared before in their entire lives in the presence of a newfound horror. And Felicity was still dressed in her shift.

* * *

I wanted to release Chapters 51, 52, 53, 54, and 55 together as one whole set because there were some plot elements within the Chapters that happened to be intertwined. The Chapters just took a lot of poring over, constant eye-scanning, editing, re-editing, and re-printing just to have the most of the elements, if not all of them, the least bit of sense at minimum. (Don't worry about the mention of re-printing; I didn't print out hundreds of drafts; just about less than five on average.) I needed the Chapters, at the very least, to be coherent as possible, perhaps for young readers and maybe for some adult readers as well, depending of course if they took some sort of an interest to reading my story.

And now for a highly unique Author's Quiz:

While awaiting the upcoming Chapters of my "epic" _Star Trek TNG Souvenirs_ fanfic, I've got something special for you in mind. Throughout Chapters 49 to 55, there seem to be at least seven instances of what I call "Parallel Imitation Scenes". I was thinking of just simply having the readers PM the guesses instead of posting them on the Review, but given my inexplicably constant delays in finishing this story, it wouldn't really be fun and it would just be selfish for me, plus there would be times when readers might want to discuss in a form of review the aspects of these "Parallel Scenes" while I'm finishing up my story. Then there's also the aspect of someone wanting to post the guessed answers in a review, and I can't delete these reviews if they come from verifiable Fan Fiction user names. So if you've made a guess to all supposed seven, post it on the review. Or, if you feel uncomfortable with posting them, just PM them to me.

The answers to all these guesses will be posted after I'm finished with my story, depending if I don't forget to post them! (And if I still have them.)

Will Felicity and friends and siblings survive a visit from the Borg Queen? Wait to find out!


	56. Chapter 56

_**Star Trek: The Next Generation – Souvenirs**_

**Written By:**_** Commander Cody CC-2224**_

CHAPTER 56

As the Borg Queen, along with two other Borg drones, beamed directly into the Guest Quarters, Chaplain Garland immediately took aim at her cybernetic body with his replicated AK-47. That threat, however, was delivered a stern warning.

"Stand back, you bucket of ugly circuits!" shouted the Chaplain. "Or I'll shoot you in the _face_!"

"You really think your puny words will even deter me?" the Borg queen retorted in a mocking manner.

The Borg Queen would not deter. Her mission was to abduct and assimilate the five colonial children, and she would let nothing, not even the Chaplain, stand in her way. Chaplain Garland, aware of the Queen's nefarious intentions, immediately fired off several Kalashnikov rounds into her body. However, being heavily armored, The Borg Queen herself wasn't dissuaded. She brandished a knife from her sheath attached to her right hip, but hesitated for a moment whether she wanted to assimilate him or not.

But her mind told her no; to get to the children she had to get rid of him, which meant she had to kill him. Using her right hand she thrust the knife into the Chaplain under his left rib area.

"You know, no good need ever goes unpunished," she said in a sickeningly sweet manner. "What is it your earthly mythical friends of classics old say? 'Those who use the sword shall perish by it?'"

The Borg Queen thrust the injured Chaplain aside. Having the intent to deal with the frightened children regarding her grand plans for assimilation, she threw away the blood-stained knife and daintily pricked out her right-hand nanotubes. All five children cowered in fear at the hideous sight of the Queen.

But, frightened out of her wits as she was, just like Elizabeth, Nan, and William, Felicity would not let herself be intimidated by even the Borg Queen. Armed with her replicated Russian PPSh, she communicated with the Queen by firing her weapon back at her until the drum clip was depleted. The recoil of the firearm was so strong that it kept pushing back Felicity, jerking her arm and throwing off her aim, making her appear to be handling the firearm in the clumsiest manner ever, especially when she was shooting from the hip. In addition to the clumsy manner of handling the PPSh, the rate of fire of the PPSh, was so fast, that ammo was quickly depleted even before Felicity could fire an effective dose of real but replicated lead at the Borg Queen. But the Queen had received quite a beating from Felicity, and Felicity at this point knew that the sole form of diplomacy to a relentless enemy like a Borg Queen was an effective barrage of automatic gunfire.

That is, if she could even keep up the fire. And if the Queen wasn't so heavily armored. Even with Felicity's clumsiness, the amount of lead fired at the Borg Queen would have killed a person instantly, especially if the PPSh was aimed straight at the torso area. However, the Queen, being heavily armored, wasn't deterred again, just as she wasn't deterred by Chaplain Garland's AK-47 gunfire spraying.

So in a fit of rage Felicity used her PPSh firearm as a club, violently bashing the Borg Queen as hard as she could with the butt of the gun. Responding to this physical and otherwise life-threatening threat, the Queen violently knocked Felicity to the carpeted floor in such a position where the left side of her body faced flat on the floor itself, and kicked her hard a few times repeatedly against her stomach, her ribs, and her near left, right, and central area of her chest. Felicity winced and seethed in pain on account of this physical abuse that she felt she was going to cry, as evidenced by her eyes watering. When the Queen stopped abusing her, Felicity clutched her chest side with her right hand, trying desperately to massage those hurt areas. She winced over the excruciating pain.

As the Borg Queen issued further orders to assimilate the rest of the children, the entranceway doors were suddenly blasted. Into the breach barged Lt. Commander Worf, armed with a replicated BAR. Instantly taking skillful aim, he fired several BAR rounds at the two Borg drones, putting them out of commission. Then he focused his firepower at the Borg Queen.

Noticing that the Queen was heavily armored, due to the fact that his dosage of rounds hardly penetrated her body, Worf flung away his BAR and pulled out his _mek'leth_, a type of Klingon sword with a curved handle, and a curved and sharp point. Charging at her like a mad bull, he struck the Queen a handful of times with ultra-powerful blows.

Instinctively the children took shelter in the Guest Quarters closet. Elizabeth rushed little Nan and William into the closet and struggled to help her best friend back to her feet. Then they made their run for the closet.

Worf in the meantime was engaging the Borg Queen in violent hand-to-hand combat. The Queen tried to stab Worf with her bowie knife, but Worf instinctively deflected the offensive strike from his Klingon body by performing a block-grab twist technique, which involved grabbing the Queen's right hand knife arm and pulling her arm away from him before the pointy end could make deep physical contact with his left-hand rib area. He stepped on her foot, and then elbowed her directly in the Queen's face with his right elbow. He was already struggling to prevent the knife from falling into his body, and he seemed to have great difficulty trying to shake the knife out of the Queen's grasp.

Eventually he managed to grab the knife from her. Then with knife in hand, Worf savagely brandished the weapon against the Borg Queen. Viewing Worf with disdainful eyes, as if Worf was simply making a show of himself, the Queen kicked Worf straight in the abdomen with her right foot, knocking Worf off-balance, and throwing the bowie knife across the room. The Queen was intent at getting back her knife, but Worf grabbed hold of her booted legs and managed to send her stumbling to the carpeted floor.

Then Worf grabbed her by the head and tried to dislocate the Queen. But the Queen, being a little tougher, tried to dislocate Worf's head. The struggle extended all the way until Worf managed to bump the Queen to the left doorway of the Guest Quarters bathroom. Then the duo fought each other to the bathroom itself.

The Queen managed to subdue Worf by banging his head against a bathroom wall mirror, shattering the mirror glass, and forcing Worf to drop his _mek'leth_. Because Worf had a pretty tough head, that didn't necessarily knock him out, although his head became pretty bloodied rather messily due to the cuts from the mirror glass shards.

Instinctively Worf seized a large heavy ceramic toilet bowl tank cover and struck the Queen in the right-hand side of her face. He seemed to have no difficulty wielding it because of his strength, not to mention his proper leverage of the rectangular toilet tank cover. The Queen's face was heavily bruised, but that didn't knock her out. In a span of a second Worf struck her again, this time at the Queen's left hand side of her face. That still didn't stop her. Then he struck the Queen's right side of her face a third time. Then the Queen kicked Worf in his left shins, nearly knocking them together. This made Worf stumble, dropping the heavy toilet bowl tank cover, which shattered into more than five pieces. The Borg Queen took advantage of Worf's brief vulnerability by snatching his combadge and throwing it into the toilet bowl. She kicked down the toilet bowl cover, pushed the flushing lever and the toilet flushed, bringing the combadge along with it.

Meanwhile the wounded Chaplain Garland took notice of an armed replicated hand-held Mark-19 grenade launcher of World War II origins. He struggled to get to it, but found himself totally exhausted due to the shock and blood loss. Weakly he pleaded Felicity to slide it to him, since it so happened that as she lay sprawling on the floor she was fairly nearer to the replicated launcher itself.

"Miss Merriman…get me that grenade launcher you see yonder," he pleaded with her.

Felicity was writhing in pain due to the injuries inflicted by the Borg Queen. With all her strength she pushed herself to the launcher lying flat on the floor. Then she slid it over to the Chaplain.

Seconds later, Elizabeth, Nan, and William were on their way to help Felicity get up on her feet. In her blurry vision she saw images of Mr. and Mrs. Merriman extending their hands toward her. She realized how much she really missed them both that she started having the impetus to do whatever it took to see them back in her timeline.

"We've got to help the Reverend!" squeaked Elizabeth.

"_No!_" bellowed the Chaplain weakly. "Take shelter in the closet! That's an _order_!"

"Reverend! Let us _help_ you!" cried Elizabeth frantically.

"Don't…don't let my sacrifice be for _nothing_, kids! Now _do_ as I say! _Go_ to the closet! And…take this!"

The Chaplain threw to William a small transporter inhibitor device, which was already switched on, thanks to the Chaplain himself. William picked it up in a hurry after it hit the carpeted floor near him. Then the four children made their hurried rush to the closet.

Meanwhile Worf was still fighting the Borg Queen. It took him a while to get back to his wits. Then he switched to aggressive mode and the vicious dogfight resumed.

The Queen seized a metallic aluminum utensil it the appearance of a blunt dinner knife fro one of the bathroom sink drawers. She tried to stab Worf with that knife utensil, but Worf instinctively deflected that second offensive knife strike by performing the same block-grab twist technique he used previously against the Queen herself. Worf continued viciously grappling with the Borg Queen's arm, and managed to shake her knife-hand until the knife fell from the Queen's grasp.

Worf then bumped the Queen's head against the ceramic sink and in the process turned on the ice-cold water by inadvertently pulling the faucet lever to a clockwise direction. Suddenly having the idea to drown the dastardly Queen by submerging her head completely if possible in a water-filled sink, Worf immediately pulled up the sink's stopper lever and tried to keep the Queen's head under the spout while the water immersed her head in a constant steady flow.

The Borg Queen managed to regain her strength, however, and managed to wriggle her way out of Worf's burly grasp. She tried to gain the upper hand by trying to drown Worf in return by submerging his head in the water-filled sink, which at this point was filled a little more than halfway, thanks to the sink stopper being in place. While Worf was struggling pretty desperately to prevent his head from being drowned, it was at this point that the Queen finally figured out what to do to at least defeat Worf, if not kill him upright. Skillfully brandishing the utensil she thrust it into Worf deeply in the rib area.

Worf was only temporarily disabled, but that was enough for the Queen. Her plan was to kidnap the children, get out of the _Enterprise_ and assimilate them. Kidnapping the children was pretty much all she needed to do during her unauthorized stay on board the _Enterprise_.

But there was one more person she had to reckon with, and he certainly was on his way to stop her, in spite of his critical condition. Now that he was in possession of the replicated Mark-19, the critically injured Chaplain Garland struggled in his crawl on the floor to get in firing range of the Borg Queen, despite his severe injuries he was suffering right now.

The Borg Queen emerged from the bathroom, resuming her search for the children, scanning around the Guest Quarters with her wary eyes, with hands on her hips. She didn't have time to do a much thorough scanning of the room, however, because several seconds later the Chaplain was already aiming his Mark-19 grenade launcher at her, while using the Guest Quarters sofa as temporary cover. Struggling to steady his aim, using his left hand to steady the launch during the imminent recoil, he squeezed the trigger of the launcher and fired his last shot. The single grenade made a direct impact on the Queen in a stunning explosion.

When the smoke evaporated the floor was littered with Borg parts, stray pieces of Borg circuitry, and body guts, smeared in red human blood. Chaplain Garland, still holding the grenade launcher with his right hand, dropped to the ground as a result of complete physical exhaustion brought about by the severe shock and blood loss.

* * *

Across every deck aboard the _Enterprise_, and across every deck aboard the Corellian Battle Cruiser _K'Mar_, live Borg drones were efficiently dropping dead like flies. Without the Borg Queen, the entire Borg collective consciousness had no unifying authority to link to. With their authority gone, the Borg drones could not function, so as a result, died of lonely hearts.

* * *

A/N (1): The Italian Moschetto firearm was officially known as the Beretta Model .38. I forgot to mention that when I mentioned one of the Starfleet crew personnel armed with that particular firearm.

A/N (2): The PPSh was officially known as the _Pistolet Pulemyot Shpagina_, or the Shpagin Machine Pistol.

A/N (3): "…Felicity at this point knew that the sole form of diplomacy to a relentless enemy like a Borg Queen was a barrage of automatic gunfire." This part was a tribute to the famous Montgomery Scott quote, "The only diplomacy I know is a fully armed phaser bank."

A/N (4): The part where Lt. Commander Worf engages the Queen in violent hand-to-hand combat in the bathroom was derived from _Terminator 3_, where the Terminator and the Terminatrix fight in a restroom.

A/N (5): "Died of lonely hearts" was the funny phrase derived from RedLetterMedia's _Star Trek: First Contact_ movie review.

And now for another overdose of…Author's Notes:

Recently I watched a review of _Star Trek: Nemesis_ made by a Milwaukee-based filmmaker by the name of Mike Stoklasa, the owner of a company called RedLetterMedia. Stoklasa pointed out in his complaints of the movie that the scriptwriters decided to have Capt. Picard fight the Remans and Praetor Shinzon, "for movie purposes", possibly because it would be appropriate for the main protagonist to fight the main antagonist. However, it would have been appropriate for Worf to be sent on board the _Scimitar_ because Worf is strong, and Worf seems to enjoy fighting bad guys, and brings up evidence to support his point.

In my case, however, it was pretty logical to have Worf fight the Borg Queen, because (1) Capt. Picard is on his Battle Bridge coordinating the assault both within and without from the _Enterprise_, and (2) it would be practically appropriate for Worf because, as I've just said before, he seems to enjoy fighting bad guys. "To die in battle is noble for a Klingon", or something to that effect. At least I didn't feature Capt. Picard fight the main antagonist, the Borg Queen!


	57. Chapter 57

_**Star Trek: The Next Generation – Souvenirs**_

**Written By:**_** Commander Cody CC-2224**_

CHAPTER 57

Lt. Commander Worf woke up from his state of unconsciousness caused by getting a huge, violent knockout from the Borg Queen. Dazed and disoriented from the violent tussle with the Queen he struggled to focus himself with his surroundings and get himself back on track. After emerging from the Guest Quarters bathroom in a groggy manner, he took notice of the dying Chaplain.

Worf checked his uniform. Noticing pretty quickly that his combadge was missing during the tussle with the Borg Queen, he immediately made use of the intercom to call for medical assistance for the dying Chaplain.

"Medical team to Room three-thirteen," he called over the intercom system.

Worf lifted the Chaplain up a little and laid his wounded and spent body in his burly arms, trying to examine him maybe a little, to see if there was at least anything he could do for him. With a white cloth he applied pressure on the Chaplain's wounded side. At this point he knew that he would have to call the children in a loud tone of voice; otherwise he would have to literally bang his burly fists on the closet doors just to get their attention if the closet's interior was really muffled. This, however, would mean leaving the Chaplain unattended, thus increasing the risk that the Chaplain would die soon if there was no one to apply pressure on his wound, since the Chaplain was too weak and spent to do so, for some mysterious reason.

"This is Lt. Commander Worf!" he called out in a loud gruff voice. "The cost is clear! You can come out now!"

"What's going on?" asked Elizabeth out loud in a timid manner. She hoped to God it was not a trick; a trick to lure her and her friends out of the relative safety and shelter of the closet only to be abducted and assimilated by some Borg drone, or worse, betrayed by some crewman or crewwoman to the Borg. When Felicity wasn't well enough to lead the group, Elizabeth was in charge. And being a little sensible, she thought it prudent not to let her guard down, if she could possibly avoid it.

"What happened to that monster lady?" asked Nan, in reference to the defeated and destroyed Borg Queen.

"Worf cleared his throat prior to speaking his piece. "The…um…the Borg Queen is destroyed," he said quite simply. "I think it was the Chaplain's doing."

"What happened to him?" Elizabeth asked Worf rather frantically and right away. "Is…is he all right?" It sounded like a stupid question to ask, especially that Elizabeth, along with the rest of her friends, noticed not a few minutes ago that the Chaplain himself was wounded by the Borg Queen, but for all she knew, the Chaplain might have found a way out of his own unpleasant situation. He did in his life; surely he might do it again.

But sadly, according to Worf, that was not the case. Or didn't seem to be.

"The Chaplain…is dying," he croaked sadly.

"Oh, no!" cried Elizabeth, her hand over her mouth. Felicity seemed to be alert about this matter, too, because she already had her right hand at her chest in fright, as if to physically steady her beating heart, or to feel it. Little Nan and William were beginning to feel the effect of Elizabeth's imminent loss of a Chaplain friend who helped her and Felicity's siblings get through the battle. The Chaplain had even sacrificed his life on their behalf without even a thought for himself.

"It _can't_ be true!" cried Felicity in a frightened whisper. _This is the future!_ she thought to herself. _How can something so terrible happen to him?_

"I think…you'd better see for yourselves," croaked Worf.

"It might…be true…" Elizabeth confided to her best friend sadly in a whisper. Aside from that, she was shock, too, just as Felicity was. "I…I don't know. We'll have to take that chance."

Elizabeth opened the closet doors quietly and cautiously, and only by a small degree. Getting a glimpse of the wounded and dying Chaplain in Worf's arms, Felicity flung the closet doors open in haste without a moment's thought. Elizabeth was just as horrified at what she saw as her friends were. The children's friend and guide, the Chaplain, was dying and there was nearly nothing they could do about it.

"I have applied pressure to his wound," said Worf. "Unfortunately…he keeps succumbing to his injuries. I have already called for a medical team to send him immediately to the Main Sickbay." He sighed. "I'm afraid…even they might be long in coming."

In all her impatience, Felicity had the viewpoint that there must be an efficient way for the medical personnel to get there in time for the Chaplain. For Elizabeth, as much as she loved the Chaplain, she knew that any medics arriving on the scene to help the Chaplain was better than no medics at all.

"Thank you…Mr. Worf," Elizabeth gulped solemnly. Worf nodded his head silently in reply. All that the children could do during this present moment, at the very least, was to surround him and ease the pain of going through a painful struggle without his friends at his side; the friends he had sacrificed his life for. The Chaplain would need them, they thought to themselves. It was the least they could do in returning the favor for what the Chaplain heroically did for them during their perilous hours of humanity's battle against the Borg.

* * *

The wounded Chaplain Garland was in the process of being carried on a sky-blue stretcher out of the Guest Quarters and on the way to the Main Sickbay. It was at this point that Felicity made a rather desperate inquiry to the lead medic about the whereabouts of Ben.

"Pardon me," said Felicity, trying to sound a little diplomatic. "Do you happen to know someone…named Benjamin Davidson? He's my friend, and I want to go see him."

"I'm not sure," said the lead medic in a hasty manner. "But I think Dr. Crusher might know. A most likely location would be the Ten-Forward lounge, where a large majority of the crew personnel have been taken. As to exactly where, Miss…I know not, I'm afraid."

Felicity gulped back a "Thank you" in reply.

"I wish I could be of further help," said the lead medic sympathetically. He rushed the medics off to direction of Ten-Forward, with their destination the main turbolift, which they intended to take to get to Deck 10, where the Main Sickbay was located.

Worf turned to the children. "As you humans might pose as…well, an interference, serious or not for the medical personnel in Ten-Forward, I have decided to accompany you on the way," he told them. The group began their silent walk across the Deck 10 corridor on their way to Ten-Forward. They passed by some crew personnel tying up some loose ends in the form of dismantling their replicated machine gun defenses, toting their replicated firearms, and carrying compromised crew personnel on sky-blue stretchers to Ten-Forward, the Main Sickbay, or some other nearby location on board the _Enterprise_.

"How will we pose as an 'interference'?" asked Nan curiously. She could not comprehend how children like her and her friends would pose as an "interference" to the medical personnel in Ten-Forward.

"Because we're new here," said Felicity half-heartedly, hoping to save Worf the trouble answering Nan's question. "William was too overwhelmed to say much of anything.

"Is _that_ true, Mr. Worf?" asked Nan. Even children her age could almost tell if an answer wasn't satisfactory to provide an explanation for an answer. Surely there was more to the aspect of "being new" on the _Enterprise_ than what Felicity bothered to say to her younger sister.

"Um…some of it is," Worf answered her rather skeptically, thinking that Felicity may have left some things out that were important to answering Nan's question. "But they'll probably just think you're in fashionable costumes, so the likelihood of you being taken for children from another…historical era…may be minimal…at best."

The group reached the Ten-Forward lounge. The lounge was converted into some sort of makeshift infirmary, and possibly one of many makeshift infirmaries, where scores of crew personnel and civilians were taken because of lack of room in the Main Sickbay. Restaurant and dining tables were joined together to construct makeshift beds, and when there were no more tables to lay patients on, then the hard tile floor was used as a last resort, mostly for young crew personnel who could put up with lying on hard floor than the older crew personnel.

Even in the 24th century a massive makeshift infirmary could still pose as plain bad news. Even for its sanitary conditions, the Ten-Forward infirmary still posed as a pretty awful sight to the five children, although Felicity thought to herself that compared to the local hospital in Williamsburg in her time the place was certainly a lot cleaner. But the fact that people were on the verge of death here, possibly on the verge of being converted into Borg drones, really unsettled her greatly.

For the present, the Ten-Forward infirmary was for the most part all quiet-like as a monastery. A few of the beds were empty and made. There were only a handful of medical personnel, including Dr. Crusher and her assistant Nurse Ogawa.

The group stepped inside slowly and quietly. Felicity came up to Dr. Crusher.

"Doctor," she called.

Dr. Crusher turned around a little, her face from scanning carefully at a PADD.

"Doctor, do you know where Ben is?" She didn't need to go into specifics; Dr. Crusher knew who Ben was because she met him before, along with the rest of the children for the very first time.

Dr. Crusher scanned a little carefully across the lounge. "He's right over there, a little near the starboard window," she told her, pointing at what appeared to be the right-hand window of the Ten-Forward lounge. "But…I'm afraid you'd better not disturb him. He's still in the process of recovery."

"He needs me," said Felicity a little more determinedly.

"You're a strange girl," the Doctor remarked to Felicity, as if a boy in his teens would really need that much TLC from an eleven-year-old girl. The Doctor almost had the impression that Felicity was Ben's sister, or acting like one. "Really?" she asked rather skeptically.

Felicity nodded her head in reply.

The Doctor heaved a heavy sigh. It sounded pretty half-hearted, but Dr. Crusher would be busy as usual, and she didn't really put up with interruptions that much unless the matter was of great importance. But now that the infirmary wasn't too busy, she would make allowance for the children to see Ben. "Very well," she consented. "Just don't disturb the others. In fact, I'd better come with you." She turned to Worf. "Worf, I'll take over. Thank you."

Worf nodded silently, though he was determined to keep his eye on the group, even if he would station himself near the doorway. The children continued on, with Felicity leading the way, and with Dr. Crusher behind them, having his eyes on them. They passed by a handful of makeshift table-beds, some which were empty, and some which had a handful of infirm crew personnel each. In the middle of the lounge, a little near the right-hand window where Felicity and Ben were present a few days ago in the lounge was Ben. He was lying flat on a satin-white stretcher on top of two restaurant tables joined together, aligned by the width. His condition was terrible; he was still in his hideous blackish-purplish state of skin color, and he was shaking incessantly in a sporadic manner.

"He is still recovering," Dr. Crusher informed the children without being too standoffish with them. "The Corellians' chief surgeon injected several microscopic devices that will neutralize the devices assimilating Mr. Davidson into a Borg drone.

"And what are they called?" little William inquired rather curiously.

"Nanoprobes," Dr. Crusher answered little William a mite tersely.

"What do they do?"

"They are tinier than even a grain of sand," said Dr. Crusher explained. "These particular nanoprobes are going to travel in Mr. Davidson's bloodstream and attack the Borg nanoprobes invading his body."

William seemed to be a mite confused over this. He couldn't imagine anything even smaller than a nail.

"I'm afraid I can't simplify my explanation to you in a manner that you'll comprehend," said Dr. Crusher. "But that's basically what they do." Then she muttered to herself, "Besides, I'll end up breaking the Temporal Prime Directive in order to go into details about this topic."

Elizabeth, Nan, and William intently watched Felicity and Ben together. Felicity knelt beside the right-hand side of the makeshift table that comprises of Ben's flatbed. They saw that she was truly in love.

"Will…will Ben be all right?" asked Elizabeth quietly in the form of a timid whisper.

"I'm afraid I can't be sure of that, sweetheart," said Dr. Crusher quietly. "Borg technology is far more advanced than what the Federation has ever encountered. Whether Corellian technology can counteract the effects of the Borg nanoprobes…remain to be seen; however, that depends on how effective they can be at counteracting the probes before poor Mr. Davidson relapses into a complete loss of his individuality."

Elizabeth was starting to feel worried, and this feeling of worry was reflected in her face. "What…what happens then?" she asked the Doctor worriedly.

"Mr. Davidson ends up as an abnormally docile entity awaiting total subjection and assimilation into the Borg collective," the Doctor gulped. "A bleak, drab life as a drone; completely devoid of individuality and free will. In other words, he'll just become a mindless being with no will of his own."

* * *

Felicity stood beside the right-hand side of Ben's makeshift table-bed. She cared not what others would say about the peculiarity of the scene she was making; she was too busy even to care. What mattered at this point for her was that she was with a friend she held so dear to her heart, and even if it seemed to be the last moment for her to be with Ben she would make the most of it.

She took Ben's right arm and tenderly pressed his head near her chest. Ben, in a half-unconscious state, could nearly feel the warmth of her body and her heart beating steadily. It was at this point that Felicity felt tears welling in her eyes, and she put Ben's hand near her tear-streaked face. Ben could feel Felicity's face hot and moist, with the hot liquid exuding from her eyes and pouring down her cheeks. Felicity could also feel a chill in Ben's hand on her left cheek.

"Your feelings for me run…this deep…Lissie," Ben said to her quietly. "Oh…I think this is the moment I'm going to remember on this adventure of ours. _Always_."

"This is something…you shall _always_ remember…," said Felicity through her tears, "Whether you turn into one of those…those mindless creatures…or not." She made a tearful, sniffled, unable to bear the thought of seeing this moment as the last time she would be with the Ben she had always known since the beginning of their friendship. "But…if you ever do…know that I have always treasured you…as a dearest friend."

Felicity tenderly planted a chaste kiss on Ben's lips. She knew it was kind of wrong for her to do so…sort of…as she knew full well that her childlike innocence, as well as the innocence of Ben, would be compromised (well, it was kind of compromised anyway when they both had their first kiss in the Ten-Forward lounge before). But she figured that Ben might pass away into the shadow of society of the Borg collective, possibly forever, and she very much wanted to let Ben experience what a real kiss was all about. It was a closed-mouth kiss, with her lips pressing gently against Ben's.

The moment was broken when Dr. Crusher approached her slowly as Felicity embraced Ben, with Ben placing his right arm around her. Felicity made another tearful sniffle.

"My dear…we'll need to leave Ben alone if he is to recover," Dr. Crusher said to her lightly and quietly at the same time.

The Doctor gently moved Felicity from the table that Ben was lying on. She put her arm around Felicity, as Felicity planted a tender kiss on Ben's right cheek. Felicity found herself unable to let go of Ben's hand.

Dr. Crusher's words seemed to be friendly and sympathetic from the outside, but to Felicity, it sounded like she was being too overconfident; at least from Felicity's point of view. The words of Chaplain Garland concerning the sinister nature of the Borg collective made her realize that no amount of assurance about Ben's recovery would make her feel better, possibly even by the smallest degree. This realization made her think that Dr. Crusher cared little about Ben's welfare. Thinking that it would be the last time she would see Ben, she tried to make the moment between her and Ben last just a little longer, even for only a mere few seconds, before gradually letting go of Ben's hand.

Dr. Crusher gently ushered Felicity out of the Ten-Forward lounge. As he watched the little group go, he slowly moved his right arm and massaged his right cheek. His heart beat in excitement, if only steadily, as she remembered Felicity's affectionate kiss on hi cheek and on his lips. Then he slackened his arm.

"My dear…we'll need to leave Ben alone if he is to recover," Dr. Crusher said to the children quietly.

Felicity seemed to be sorely disappointed, as she was unable to give Ben the tender loving care that he would really need from her. But finding herself too depressed to the point of being unwilling to argue with the Doctor, she decided to give in. After Dr. Crusher her right hand on Felicity's left shoulder, realizing how much Ben meant to Felicity, she bid them farewell and went back to the Ten-Forward lounge, with the automatic sliding doors closing behind her.

* * *

Under the supervision of Lt. Commander Worf, the five children were accompanied back to the Guest Quarters, most of it which was damaged as a result of the conflict between Worf, the Chaplain, and the Borg Queen that took place. Deciding to give the children a long private moment, Worf stood guard outside the Guest Quarters while the children would spend some quiet time together.

When they were alone, the children embraced each other, weeping quietly as they had never wept before. They had lost two of their friends they held most dear; first it was the Chaplain, and now it was Ben. They felt as if they were completely alone; with no familiar face aside from any of the senior officers of the _Enterprise_ that they could look up to regularly for guidance. If God ever existed, or if they held true to their belief in the existence of Divine Providence, they sometimes felt that even He was distant from their lives. With no tangible and familiar entity to look up to for close friendship guidance, possibly on a regular basis, they felt that they were on their own…completely.

* * *

A/N: TLC stands for tender loving care.

It was a quite a long time before I revisited this love scene. The entire scene seemed to become so sappy for me after being a fervent effort to convey a friendship going deeper beyond its boundaries long ago. Anyway, feel free to post a comment if you have issues with this scene.

The next several chapters (estimated to be Nine left; yeah; the Nine!) will take a while in coming. At this point Commander Cody is busy putting the remaining chapters from script form to narrative form. Commander Cody hopes to get this done before the fall semester.

Commander Cody poses an intriguing question for you avid readers to answer while he's cooking up the other chapters:

Why can't Felicity seem to take assurance from Dr. Crusher concerning the matter of Ben's recovery, on account of taking the Chaplain's mentioning of the sinister nature of the Borg collective to heart, even if Dr. Crusher has some measure of confidence that Ben will recover?


	58. Chapter 58

_**Star Trek: The Next Generation – Souvenirs**_

**Written By:**_** Commander Cody CC-2224**_

CHAPTER 58

Several hours later – early mid-evening, same day…

Felicity, Elizabeth, Nan, and William decided to pay another visit to Ten-Forward, this time fully dressed. They were in the same era-appropriate attire that they wore only several hours ago. On what seemed to be their second visit they found the lounge half-deserted. Most of the makeshift beds that populated the entire lounge were "dismantled" and converted back to regular restaurant tables. There were some patients still resting in the lounge, however, so the lounge was not completely deserted.

Felicity scanned the entire lounge until she spotted Ben. He had completely recovered, and his skin was reverted back to its natural color. He was completely awake, and was seated on his patient's makeshift table bed.

Felicity wanted to jump for joy. He heart was leaping and bounding all around her; she was far too excited to control herself. With an eager squeal she ran up to where Ben was seated and gave him a really big hug, which was reciprocated by Ben's bear hug.

The three others followed Felicity's directional lead, with Elizabeth holding Nan and William in hand, with Nan at Elizabeth's right and William at Elizabeth's left. Ben embraced the older girls in a group-hug, including little Nan and William, enwrapping his arms around them.

"We thought you were dead!" cried Felicity. "Or _dying_!"

"We really missed you," said little Nan. "Truly."

"I wish you were there with us," put in William. "You could have finished off that evil monster lady. She tried to kill us."

"That's not true!" exclaimed Felicity with a laugh over her little brother's viewpoint. "She just wanted to…to…" She was finding herself at a loss for words over this.

"…Kidnap you," finished Ben.

"Aye! _Kidnap_!" cried Felicity. "_That's_ the word."

The group became silent the moment they saw Elizabeth's forced smile. Felicity could almost tell that something was really wrong…with her best friend. So could Nan and William, the moment they took keen notice of their eldest sister's demeanor over her reaction with Elizabeth. Even Ben took keen notice of Elizabeth, too.

"E-Elizabeth?" asked Felicity worriedly.

Elizabeth turned to Ben with a solemn look. "We thought you were gone, too," said Elizabeth. "Just like the Reverend."

Ben sat up straight. "Why, what happened to him?" asked Ben a mite anxiously.

Felicity decided to answer for Elizabeth, since she felt it seemed bad enough that Elizabeth should feel so guilty about ruining the excitement of seeing Ben with the story of the Chaplain's imminent demise. By answering form Elizabeth, Felicity was relieving most of the guilt from her best friend. She put her right arm around Elizabeth, indicating that she would answer for her friend.

"The Reverend…seems to be dying," said Felicity quite sadly. "I'm not sure, but all four of us had seen him…wounded…"

"While fighting that evil monster lady," added William.

"The entire lounge around them seemed to have gone silent. The children's joy over seeing Ben alive and well seemed to evaporate the moment a mention of the Chaplain dying arrived at the surface. But even the older girls were not entirely certain as to whether Chaplain Garland was really dying or not. For all they knew the Chaplain himself might be recovering. At least that was what the children were hoping for.

A few minutes later a blue-uniformed young man stepped up to them. It was one of the medical personnel from the Main Sickbay. And his face seemed to reflect some sort of wryness…and cynicism. For a moment the children seemed to think that this was when bad news would really start coming. And if it was bad news their fears would be confirmed, and their hopes for the Chaplain's recover dashed, because there would be no reason for any of the medical personnel to make a personal approach to the children themselves.

"Kids?" said the young medic, after clearing his throat. "The Chief Medical officer has some very bad news to relate to you. It's about the Reverend Garland."

Elizabeth turned abruptly to the young medic, as if she couldn't believe what she was hearing. The children's joy over seeing Ben alive and well seemed to evaporate the moment they heard of the Chaplain dying.

"What happened to him?" she asked right away, with a countenance of anxious concern reflected in her face.

"He's dying," said the medic. "Dr. Crusher requests your presence. Please accompany me to the Main Sickbay.

All five children followed the medic's lead. They marched through the fairly busy corridor of Deck 10, and into the recently repaired main turbolift. The ride was followed by a long wait, as the turbolift would only ascend two levels up.

As soon as the group stepped out of the turbolift, the children braced themselves for the worst of what was to come for their Chaplain friend. Elizabeth seemed to feel much worse about the whole thing, since the Chaplain was her friend. The other children didn't seem to feel worse off as Elizabeth did; however, Felicity, Nan, and William could seem to feel the impact over what Chaplain Garland did for them during the conflict with the Borg. As for Ben, he was going to see the Chaplain mainly to pay his respects, since he didn't know the Chaplain that well as Elizabeth did. Nevertheless, Ben felt he owed it up to the Chaplain for keeping his friends safe from harm.

The group entered the Main Sickbay. At a close distance near the left hand side of the Chaplain's sickbay bed, Dr. Crusher was performing additional tricorder scans over the barely conscious body of Chaplain Garland. At the right hand side of the bed a fellow chaplain as performing the Last Rites over Chaplain Garland, too. He eventually took his leave of the Main Sickbay shortly after he was finished with the rituals that the children perceived as a mite strange, yet gentle and serene in nature.

The young medic ushered the children close to the Chaplain's bed. So anguished was Elizabeth over what she was witnessing at this very moment that she held her hand close to her heart, as Felicity put her right arm around Elizabeth to calm her down a bit. Chaplain Garland was near death's door, and struggling to breathe, like he was suffocating. The sight of him dying in such a manner was so distressing to the girls and William to behold.

Dr. Crusher finished her last tricorder scan before snapping her tricorder shut.

"He's been stabbed by a knife laced with a C-5 Neurotoxin," she informed them half-glumly. "Unfortunately there's currently no known antidote for this lethal poison. He's dying slowly. I don't think...there's anymore we can do for him..."

"…Except to say goodbye," she sniffled. She was already on the verge of tears, unable to help herself from crying.

Dr. Crusher made a sad nod of her head. The children looked forlornly at the dying Chaplain. "Perhaps I'll leave you six alone to discuss last words in private," she said to them.

"Thank you, Doctor," Ben replied on the children's behalf. Dr. Crusher left the bedside to tend to whatever casualties were present in the Main Sickbay.

Chaplain Garland could only talk weakly. He was starting to feel some chills, and he could feel a great numbness on the lower part of his body. This particular symptom was similar among victims of Poison Hemlock, and a weaponized version of this potent toxin, officially dubbed as the C-5 Neurotoxin, was largely based on Borg technology, as it utilized nanoprobes to increase fatality for the victim by gradual blockage of vital respiratory systems within the body triggering eventual death by gradual suffocation. Counteracting those deadly offensive nanoprobes would nearly be out of the question, as the nanoprobes themselves were virtually invincible, given their own little individual force-field power source, which could allow them to repel any attack from enemy nanoprobes sent to eliminate the Borg nanoprobes and clear the respiratory blockage. A remedy of artificial ventilation was almost out of the question, too, as the toxin was far too efficient in the gradual buildup. Even a small dosage was fatal, given the efficiency of the offensive nanoprobe technology and the Chaplain had received quite a large dosage in the process of defending Felicity and friends from the Borg Queen.

Elizabeth moved closer to the Chaplain's right-hand bedside. "Reverend…?" she asked him softly,

"Ah, yes," the Chaplain croaked weakly. "Elizabeth…Cole…" He coughed twice, with a weak strain. "I…I take it…the good Doc has called you…you kids…to…to be with me…during my final moments…I imagine."

"We had to," Ben said to him a little tactlessly.

Elizabeth glared at Ben a little. Felicity did the same, too.

"_What_?" Ben asked the older girls in exclamation rather indignantly.

"Ne'er mind that," the Chaplain put in, trying to brush the whole thing off. "The…the important thing is…you are…all of you…here."

The Chaplain decided to give a more thought to his speech before he resumed. He seemed to have more important things next to say.

"Now…I don't…have much time…so listen carefully…all of you," he told the children before he made another cough. "The opportunity…to go back…to your own time…to see…the loved ones…you seem to miss…so much…and right history as well…I might add…could only be made possible…by a dedicated chaplain…imperfect, irreverent, and…unholy…perhaps from your point of view, perhaps…but mightily charitable reverend…willing to put himself in the front lines…for your own damn sakes."

Elizabeth nodded her head in agreement. At this point she didn't seem to care now whether the Chaplain was in his "scandalous" swearing habits again. It was his own way of conveying his manliness.

"Good," said the Chaplain, casting a glassy gaze at the children "You…you all understand. So when an opportunity…comes for you to head back to your own time…I…I _strongly_ suggest you seize it."

"'Suggest'?" Ben asked him rather skeptically.

"You all have a choice," the Chaplain told them weakly. "It…it wasn't easy doing this…for all of you." And he pointed to his severe knife wound.

"I…I understand," Elizabeth choked back sorrowfully.

"So do we," Felicity said understandingly. Then she looked at her friends and siblings before facing back to the dying Chaplain. "_All_ of us," she finished.

"Good," said the Chaplain. He seemed to be at peace now, now that he managed to take care of some loose ends regarding his suggestion to the children to take advantage of any opportunities to head back to their own historical period.

"You know…I ended up killing the evil Borg lady with a grenade launcher. Funny, isn't it. Though…though it wasn't…wasn't very…Christian of me.

"You did what was right, Reverend," Ben said to him quite sympathetically. Being quite a young man he sort of knew his nature. If there was anyone who had the intention of hurting his loved ones he would have the audacity to fight back and carry a bullet for them. _Damn if anyone thought it "unchristian" to do that sort of thing,_ Ben thought to himself pretty determinedly.

"Ah, well," said the Chaplain with some degree of finality. "A shepherd…has to care for his flock…especially those whom the captain has entrusted me to. And…at times…like this…he has to fight off the wolves…that prey upon those…entrusted to his care."

The Chaplain coughed again before thinking of anything more to say to the children during his last moments.

"Nobody else told me…Lizzie…that your eyes are as blue as Our Lady's heavenly mantle. This is a reference to Mary the Mother of God, whom most Roman and Eastern Catholics took a devotion to, though Elizabeth was sort of unaware of this.

"I take that as a compliment…Reverend," Elizabeth said to him with a smile, as if she was pretty flattered by it, despite her sorrow. "But…'tis just that…"

"Oh, c'mon," the Chaplain snorted weakly. "No ifs, ands, or buts. You look at yourself _good_ in the mirror…_every_ day of your natural life. _Think_ about it, Lizzie. The heavenly blueness…and all that _shit_ about feminine beauty."

There was another brief moment of silence.

"Reverend," Elizabeth said to the Chaplain in a compassionate manner. "Is…is there anything we can do for you…further?"

The Chaplains struggled weakly to speak, after a severe cough. "You can start a-prayin' for my soul," he said to her. "That is…if there's still a soul to pray for when you go back to your time."

"You…sacrificed yourself…so we could have the opportunity to go back to our time?" asked Elizabeth.

"Yep," said the Chaplain quite abruptly, before coughing twice. "Best I could do…for a good friend like you…Miss…Elizabeth…Cole…"

Elizabeth's eyes started brimming with hot tears. After all that she and the Chaplain had been through, however brief it may all have been, Elizabeth could not help but cry. It was such a bad time to lose a good and selfless man like him. She tenderly clasped the Chaplain's left hand.

"Oh Reverend…" she said to him. "I'll _never_ forget what you've done for us. _Never_!"

"That be good news, for this time, Missy," said the Chaplain. He was beginning to sound pretty pessimistic about his heroism being remembered and commemorated by the children if they went back their own time. It was only natural. "Once you all go back, you can never again speak aloud my…excessively heroic deeds, for fear of…being questioned…and altering history…But if you all remember it in your mind…that be good…that be good…"

Chaplain Garland struggled even to breath, though it was painful. "See you in heaven…Missy…that is, if…if you manage to…"

The last unknown phrase was not uttered, as the Chaplain breathed his last and died. Chaplain Garland died with his eyes open and his mouth slightly agape, as if he breathed his last. Ben gently shut the Chaplain's eyelids.

Elizabeth hugged Felicity and sobbed quietly. Now it was Felicity's turn to comfort her best friend.

* * *

A/N: The fictional C-5 Neurotoxin is largely based on the function of Poison Hemlock.

I hope this chapter wasn't too rushed. I wanted to make this chapter as emotionally touching as I could...to the best of my abilities. I may want to come back to this chapter and maybe improve it...in the near future.

If you find yourself thinking that this particular chapter may do with some improvement, please feel free to comment in your reviews. Commander Cody always takes some suggestions...but please make them constructive if you can.

Chapter 59 will be coming soon. The Author will stop at Chapter 59 to work on the remaining chapters of this story. Remember, we're still not though with this entire story, and Commander Cody intends to get this fic done before he even works on another fanfic project. Fortunately Commander Cody has all his remaining chapter script outlines converted into draft narrative forms.


	59. Chapter 59

_**Star Trek: The Next Generation – Souvenirs**_

**Written By:**_** Commander Cody CC-2224**_

CHAPTER 59

A mid-morning gathering took place in the Ten-Forward lounge, in the form of a woefully solemn funeral held in honor of the Chaplain Garland, who had departed from his earthly life a few hours ago. The entire lounge was blanketed with monastic silence.

The Captain and the rest of the senior officers were present at the funeral. They were at the forefront of the dead Chaplain's highly elaborate coffin box made of polished laminated rosewood, with his name embossed in sterling silver, with the all-capital letters displaying on the right length side of the coffin, which was facing the center of the funeral gathering. About the only individual who seemed to be out of place in terms of proper funeral attire was Lt. Commander Worf. Well, actually it was his face, for his head was lightly bandaged, due to having it slammed into a bathroom mirror during his bathroom tussle with the Borg Queen. In addition to all that, Worf also had his combadge replaced, too; and that replacement was in the same area where his previous combadge used to be. Also present were some members, especially Transporter Chief Miles O'Brien, and others both influential and nondescript in social status, who knew the Chaplain fairly well since the Chaplain himself was on board the _Enterprise_, ministering to his flock.

Ben wore his blue coat that he wore for quite a while and had his tricorn hat off his head and placed at the center of his chest, with his right hand holding it. Both Felicity and Elizabeth were in their gowns and they had their hands clasped down their waist. Then after a few moments, Felicity stood near Elizabeth's right side, putting her arm around her while Elizabeth sniffled and cried quietly.

The Captain began a slow and smooth recitation of a touching eulogy. Of special importance was his self-sacrifice on behalf of the five children from time. His head was bowed, as he read the words on the PADD and exchanged looks with the gathered crowd at the very same time.

"There seems to be nearly no way…to completely convey a…wholesome appreciation…for the Chaplain…and what he did," Capt. Picard began with great solemnity. "It may be impossible…to convey…such an appreciation…because there are some…gathered among you…who may not have known the Chaplain…very well…while he was still alive." Picard cleared his throat. "There are many heroes…" Picard made a rather involuntary sniffle, only to clear his nose. "Many heroes…who…in some way or another…influenced a certain group of people. Others…have influenced…their nation states. But none other heroic actions…may have greater influence… in what humanity is…than the self sacrifice made by a hero…who lived in our midst…on board this ship. The _Enterprise_."

Picard looked up from his PADD, after at least getting some idea as to what he should say next to the funeral participants.

"This hero…is the fellow Chaplain, the Reverend Francis O'Neill Garland," Picard continued with a little increase of conviction in his tone of voice. "Some of you may have known him. Some of you may have not. But even for those…who haven't known him…very well…" He cleared his throat again. "You can be sure…that had it not been for the Chaplain himself…that battle that we had just fought…against the Borg…would have been for _nothing_…if he hadn't fulfilled his task…to the fullest."

Picard made a brief paused before looking up.

"You see…" the captain continued, "Chaplain Garland was assigned to look after five children…from our own history." Not that he would mention that it was he who assigned the Chaplain that task, but it was generally assumed, since no higher-ranking officer above the First Officer had awareness about the Chaplain than Picard himself. "The Chaplain proved himself to be…quite trustworthy…based on how the children would eagerly look up to him…as their spiritual guide…and a dear friend…in spite of their religious differences, which…in the children's time…had been the source of all internal national strife. Chaplain Garland took that assignment…very seriously…even swearing that he would…'take a bullet for them…if the time comes. He stayed with them…helped them in their time of need…and when the time came…he stood in the way of the Borg…in order to give the children…a chance…to retreat to safety."

Then Picard made a little nod with his head.

"I believe…that this man's sacrifice…should influence…_all_ of us…in terms of maintaining our history…the way we remember it," said Picard. "The Chaplain gave his life…so that he could prevent five VIPs from being assimilated by the Borg; that he could give…those five children could make a choice…to head back to their own time…and maybe right history back to the way we knew. His sacrifice...made this battle against the Borg for humanity...very, very worthwhile. No matter how much you may believe that these children…are not wholly influential people in history…_our_ history…America's history…it was imperative…that the children be kept alive and intact."

"Not that history is a matter to any of us," whispered Felicity resentfully through gritted teeth. "He talks as though were just simply…valued goods! Instead of _people_!"

"Lissie," Ben whispered back reprovingly. "At least the Captain acknowledges the Chaplain's legacy. It's the least he can do. Would you rather that his legacy not be mentioned…at all?"

In the midst of the funeral speech Felicity simply heaved a rather exasperated sigh.

"But more than that," Picard continued. "No matter the reason…no matter the motive…the Chaplain gave his life…because he knew…in his heart…that it was the right thing to do. The _noble_ thing to do. No sacrifice…made for his fellow man…in whatever degree…whether influential to humanity or not…is too great…or too small. To arbitrarily measure…such sacrifices…in this manner…is, I believe…demeaning to a human being's legacy, and demeaning…to the heroic act itself. To quote…the biblical words…pertaining to the religion which the Chaplain devotedly adhered to…" he cleared his throat again. "'Greater love…than no man has…than to lay down his life…for his friends.'" He paused. "The children…were his friends…and he was devoted to them…as he had been devoted…to the various flocks…that he was charged…during his career…as a devoted clergyman."

Aesthetically speaking, the eulogy may not seem to have been finished, but that was pretty much all Picard had to say about the Chaplain. For the children, it was better than nothing positive to be said about the Chaplain's life…or his noble, self-sacrificing act of heroism. The whole thing may have been more about rectifying history's problems, but at least the reasons for the Chaplain's heroic act were not totally ignored…and would hopefully not be totally forgotten by those who knew the Chaplain to some degree.

A long solemn silence continued hanging over the entire room. After nearly a minute and a half when Capt. Picard finished his eulogy on Chaplain Garland that silence was broken when Elizabeth mournfully broke into song. It was a late 18th century Irish song known as "The Minstrel Boy". The strangeness of all this was that the song was a popular rebel song among the Irish when they were involved in several uprisings against British rule in Ireland. And Elizabeth, being English in nationality, wouldn't normally be singing an Irish rebel tune; at least not in her time. However, when the Chaplain was alive he decided to put politics aside and teach Elizabeth the song, simply because it was a very touching one to sing. For Elizabeth to sing the song was her own little way of honoring the memory of a Chaplain who counseled her in times of trouble, and helped her in her friends in times of peril.

Elizabeth decided to sing the song in the key signature of B flat, simply because it might have been the easier key signature to sing on her tone level. Her singing tone was flat, but it was mournful, and one could be almost touched by that tone, since such a tone could really seem to hint her profound state of grief over the loss of a spiritual advisor and a friend. It was the song that she learned from Chaplain Garland, who in turned happened to learn it from Chief O'Brien while they were friend some time ago on board the _Enterprise_. She sang the first verse.

_The minstrel boy to the war is gone,_

_In the ranks of death you'll find him;_

_His father's sword he hath girded on,_

_And his wild harp slung behind him;_

_"Land of Song!" cried the warrior bard,_

_"Tho' all the world betrays thee,_

_One sword, at least, thy right shall guard,_

_One faithful harp shall praise thee!"_

Transporter Chief Miles O'Brien also began to break into song with the second verse.

_The Minstrel fell! But the foeman's chain_

_Could not bring that proud soul under;_

_The harp he lov'd ne'er spoke again_,

_For he tore its chords asunder;_

_And said "No chains shall sully thee,_

_Thou soul of love and brav'ry!_

_Thy songs were made for the pure and free_

_They shall never sound in slavery!_

Then Both O'Brien and Elizabeth sung the third verse together.

_The minstrel boy will return one day,_

_When we hear the news, we will cheer it._

_The minstrel boy will return we pray,_

_Torn in body, perhaps, but not in spirit._

_Then may he play his harp in peace,_

_In a world such as Heaven intended,_

_For every quarrel of Man must cease,_

_And every battle shall be ended._

"I'm dying to know how she learned that song," Ben whispered to Felicity.

"The Chaplain must have taught it to her," said Felicity half-heartedly, still trying to comfort her best friend.

"Aye," Elizabeth said sadly. "He did."

* * *

After nearly three minutes, for what seemed like forever, a Scottish bagpipe played "Amazing Grace". The coffin was lifted and toted by six diverse male pallbearers in yellow and red uniforms; of the six, two were dark-skinned, one was blue-skinned, and the last was a tanned-skinned Vulcan. The coffin was escorted in the rear by the yellow-uniformed personnel, comprising of two crewmen and one curly fair-haired crewwoman. Behind the security escort were the senior officers and the captain. Following the corps of officers were the rest of the funeral participants. If the five colonial children were present in this funeral procession, they were buried right in the middle of the crowd. The coffin was then escorted to the main turbolift where it would be escorted to the ship's morgue.

* * *

The coffin was carried into the morgue room by a couple of blue-uniformed personnel. A square panel door was opened to its right side. The coffin was inserted slowly and in half a minute the storage door was slowly shut, sealing the coffin inside.

* * *

I hope the Captain's eulogy wasn't too lame to begin with. It was pretty much the best that my twenty-year-old brain could come up with…for a eulogy, that is. Just so you know, I do not own the song _The Minstrel Boy_. It belongs to Thomas Moore (1779-1852), who was said to have set the song to an old Irish air called _The Moreen_. It is also said that Moore composed the lyrics in commemoration of his friends who participated in (and were killed in battle) during the Irish Uprising of 1798. The lyrics of _The Minstrel Boy_ that you see in this fanfic are entirely unabridged. That's supposed to be what makes Elizabeth Cole singing this song pretty significant in this chapter; From the 16th century and up to the 20th century the Irish were technically under oppression of the English. The idea of Elizabeth singing this song is intended to, at least in the symbolic sense, remove some of the prejudices that severely polarized English and Irish people for at least five centuries...sort of. Besides, the song makes no attempt by the Irish to villify their occupiers, the English; it's intent is to commemerate the people who died to free Ireland from what may be perceived by the Irish to be unfair oppression by the English occupants.

That's it for the time being. A very big Thank You to all the fellow readers (especially to "pansyphoenix", whose continuous reviews are very encouraging as a whole to keeping the story continuing on its epic journey of fanfiction writing!) who have taken the time…and the effort…to read this "epic" fanfic, even if it's not yet finished. I thought I should bring closure to my readers while I'm still working on the rest of the story chapters. The closure, however, may be pretty temporary, as we have yet to discover what will become of our five main children characters, but now that we know what may become of the Chaplain we should feel a little bit settled…even if some of you may find yourselves crying over what happened to such a noble character like him. If that happens, be sure to bring a box of Kleenex tissues to your workstation computer.

That's it for the time being. I thought I should bring closure to my readers while I'm still working on the rest of the story chapters.

This may look like the end of the story, but not yet, folks! What next will Felicity and friends do? Find out on the upcoming chapters! Let me know what you think of this chapter (as a whole)!

A/N: "In spite of their religious differences, which…in the children's time…had been the source of all internal national strife." This is a possible reference to the various religious persecutions going on even in the United States in its early days.


	60. Chapter 60

_**Star Trek: The Next Generation – Souvenirs**_

**Written By:**_** Commander Cody CC-2224**_

CHAPTER 60

The children were gathered in the middle of the Guest Quarters room, depressed. The older girls were slumped over their seating areas on the main sofa. Ben sat beside the middle of the king-sized bed, his body on the floor, and his legs crossed. Nan was seated near the main sofa where the older girls were. As for little William, he was browsing through the same hard-covered nursery rhymes book that he and Nan and read through together for the past few days. His browsing was done in a bored manner, as if all the excitement over reading and enjoying this book had died out.

The depressed children, probably save for little William, were in meditation over the death of Chaplain Garland. The death of a trusted friend was almost enough to shatter their optimism in the modern marvels of the 24th century, simply because they couldn't save their Chaplain friend. Here were all the amazing technological advancements of the 24th century, before their very eyes, and now suddenly that fact of life, one that only resurfaced in their minds after they witnessed his dying, remained that modern medicine couldn't save Chaplain Garland.

For the children the concept of _how_ was a mystery. The main question was _why_, which was what the children were agonizing over. In their day they were used to seeing people dying even at a young age, and it seemed pretty remarkable over how much they as children were able to outrun all of this, even in their time. But that didn't mean that they never felt the same way about human loss as a modern human would. However, it would not have been out of character for children like them to wonder what would happen to them eventually if they eventually came to some sort of bitter realization that even the modern marvels of medicine sometimes can't sometimes save people, and that even in the 24th century humankind is still limited in its potential on what they can do.

The person to get hit hard even more with the loss of the Chaplain friend was Elizabeth. Being of the softest heart and soul, that loss affected her pretty deeply. As with the children, this was the probably the first time that harsh reality about the future had really hit her heard. Usually the one to maintain her composure in the midst of fairly shocking circumstances, she was slumped over her seat, unable to keep herself from being on the verge of tears. When it seemed as though there would be no one to prevent her from stifling her emotions, she let them out.

"Why…why did the good Reverend have to die?" Elizabeth asked in anguish. "This...this can't be happening. I...I thought..."

It was a similar reaction to the setbacks of harsh realities that affected the emigrants to the U.S. during the middle of the 19th and 20th centuries. They envisioned America as a land of opportunity, where everything could be ideal. When they emigrated to that country they were hit hard by the harsh realities that they as emigrants in a foreign land that they envisioned as a land of plenty was just as worse as the land they came from, at least from their own point of view.

"If...if the same thing could happen to him...it could happen to us, too," lamented Elizabeth through her tears. "What...what will happen to _us_?"

Felicity pulled Elizabeth closer and wrapped her arms around her best friend. "Elizabeth...I don't know..." replied Felicity. Somehow she was at a loss for words. For her, this almost seemed unlike the Elizabeth she knew. The Elizabeth she knew almost always told Felicity not to daydream too much, and stop complaining about maybe small things. It would have been all too tempting to throw many of Elizabeth's mild admonishing over accepting things the way they were to her face. But Felicity found herself unwilling to do this, because she felt a similar loss like that when her Grandfather died.

But Ben could. However, he felt pretty glum about admitting in paraphrase the bitter reality of life that concerned the Chaplain's death.

"Maybe...I don't know..." he said, hanging his head in genuine forlornness. "Maybe we could just accept the fact...that...it was his time," he said quietly. "The Reverend's time. If the same thing happens to us...well..."

"Is God going to let anything bad happen to us?" asked little Nan. William perked up from his book, wondering rather anxiously what their eldest sister had to say about this matter.

"He _won't_," replied Felicity, as if she was determined to promise them that nothing would ever happen to this little group on her watch. It was almost as though she was reaffirming her place in the leadership of this little group. "We got this far in this journey," she said to her younger sister, as she brought her close to her side. "He can't let us down, not when we're this far. Can he, Elizabeth."

"I...I guess not," Elizabeth whimpered. She sat back up, rubbing her eyes and brushing back her wavy flaxen-blonde hair. "I don't know...I'm sorry, Lissie. Truly. I gave in to..."

"Despair?" asked Ben.

"Something like that," replied Felicity, answering for her best friend. "Elizabeth was just...distressed. I was distressed, too, when Grandfather died."

"Perhaps it's more than that," said Ben. "She's afraid...we'll die. Somehow. Someway." He sighed. "'Tis only natural...that after we see so many...modern marvels of this time...things that can supposedly cure any ailment...we should only lose faith in these things...when they can't…save us sometimes." He got up from the bed and started pacing around the room a little restlessly while behaving in a manner that could almost convey a resignation of one's fate.

"Maybe we should just accept the fact," he continued on, "That it was his time...that his time on earth was over...and that he was called to his final resting place..."

"...In heaven," added Elizabeth right away. "That's where he's going there. That's where he'll go there. That's where he _should_...go there." She choked back a sob. "Right now...I don't care whether he is of our religion or not. He gave up his life for ours...'tis only right that he...that he should be rewarded. Right, Lissie?"

"Aye," agreed Felicity, as she comforted her best friend. Ben nodded silently.

"The Reverend told me…a few days ago…" began Elizabeth, "...That sometimes…life is not as ideal in this time…as we thought…it would be…in here…from our time. Sometimes…even in this century…we can't really be too hopeful…about our life in this world."

"That much is certain," Ben had to agree, even though every part in his body told him to disagree over this bitter realization.

"The Reverend was right," said Felicity sadly. She hung her head briefly before looking up half-blankly at the Guest Quarters entrance doors. "I mean…do you remember the stories he told us? About his life?"

"Not much," said little Nan in a forlorn manner. "But I remember…they weren't too happy."

"They didn't _sound_ happy," Ben corrected her, trying not to be unfriendly with Nan. "I mean his stories. At least most of 'em. Almost _nothing_ went right with him during his life."

Elizabeth sighed. "That's _not_ entirely true, Ben," she said to him. "Some things went right for him. Not all."

"I'm not doubting that, Lizzie," said Ben. "I'm just saying that throughout his life he had many daunting struggles to face…during his lifetime."

"Even during his days as a pastor…to his flock," said Felicity. Having some liking to the Reverend, Felicity could seem to appreciate the aspect of a devoted clergyman who thought of his flock before himself. Not to say that Chaplain Garland think of his flock that often, but throughout his life he was open to any questions requests made by any crew personnel. For him it would be quite a struggle of catering to the needs of people on board the _Enterprise_, and much of the time he couldn't please everybody, especially that he still retained some of his old indulging habits, like swearing, smoking Cuban cigars, and keeping strange stuff in his quarters. But for Elizabeth, there never seemed to be a time when the Chaplain, if he had the time, never refused a request from her, at least in the most outright manner, provided it didn't interfere greatly with his pastoral duties.

"People died during the time when he and others were struggling to survive…on an ice world," mentioned Ben rather glumly. "I think he suffered just as they did."

"But it was also during his life, too, before he became pastor," said Felicity.

"Aye," Ben had to agree. The loss of his wife, the loss of his career, his imprisonment in the Cardassian mines, were the many sufferings Chaplain Garland had to endure. Ben didn't have to convey all of this. The children already knew. And because they knew, they could appreciate the remarkable way the Chaplain was able to get through all of this, and they would start wondering whether he would survive even in their time. For the children, this was their first close encounter with a hero that was legendary to them since the history of George Washington. For many children in the 24th century, there were many legendary heroes to know and appreciate, but probably any one of these children could get wrapped up romanticizing legendary heroes would give anything just to have what the five colonial children had in the form of encountering someone just as interesting and just as noble like the Chaplain himself.

"There may be a bright side…to all of this," said Ben. "It's quite possible…I should think…that Reverend Garland was able to live a long life. Mayhap not as long as your Grandfather, Lissie, but…he did seem to enjoy life…last time we saw him on board. He also got to live a pretty interesting life, too…probably more interesting than I could ever hope to live…if I joined Washington's Army."

Felicity forced a small, wry laugh. "Ben, I think the Reverend's life may have been just as 'interesting' as yours would be if you joined Washington's Army," she said to him. "Possible more so than the Chaplain's."

Ben made a wry face as the children continued their silent musings harsh reality and the Chaplain's death. The room was quiet yet again.

* * *

Four hours later…

Capt. Picard was in his quarters, seated in his desk chair, carried away in his musings when he heard the door chime of his quarters ringing with life.

"Come," he ordered aloud.

The automatic sliding doors slid open. It was Data.

"Captain?" he said to him rather inquisitively.

"Hmm…" Picard said with his inflection down.

"Are you all right?" Data asked the captain half-emotionlessly.

"Oh, yes," Picard said quite genially. It's just…"

"The Chaplain?" Data finished for him.

Picard nodded his head silently. Data approached the captain closer. They merged into discussion of the legacy of Chaplain Garland.

"Captain, I do not understand how two individuals of different religions can get along," said Data, as if imploring the captain for some sort of advice on the matter. "The Roman Catholics and the Protestants during that period held personal prejudices against each other, even to the point of persecuting each other."

"True," Picard agreed. "But you see, that Chaplain taught more by example than he did in word. Once that was the case, the children, especially Miss Cole, could then perceive him as someone who practices what he preaches."

"And perhaps, they, in turn, will follow his example."

"Yes, of course. But not to the extreme. Only…in their own little, domestic ways."

"'Domestic'?" Data asked rather curiously.

"One cannot rashly expect a child to willingly face the fears of those that are relegated to a hero's worth."

"But there were some…children…'martyrs'…who were in that circumstance."

"True. But then, of course, if the opportunity presents itself for escape, one should take that advantage. Of course…humans…are capable of things that most of his kind would be perceived as…foolish. But…in order for such a feat to become possible…one psychological factor has to sustain the individual."

"And what is that, Captain?"

"Belief," Picard seemed to emphasize rather clearly to Data. "Religious belief."

"So the Chaplain's belief is what would have precipitated his taking direct action against the Borg in order to protect the children?"

"I would say yes."

A brief moment of silence followed as Data forced his android brain to ponder over such a concept he was considering to be pretty bizarre.

"Based on the rising factors of the Chaplain's confrontation with the Borg, I would definitely rank his courage at legendary.

"Lots of people have that same rank, Mr. Data. But I agree. It's not easy giving one's life for one's friends."

"I…do not understand," Data said to the captain rather hesitantly.

"That's because you're not fully human enough to understand it. You're an android, so the entire…circumstance…will be quite painless to you."

"If I were carrying an emotion chip with me, the circumstance would be quite painful…to me."

"And that's when you would come to experience the thrill," Picard finished in a sympathetic manner before raising his head to face his special subordinate android lieutenant commander. "But not yet, Data," he seemed to advise the android rather conditionally. "Perhaps the opportunity will come another time. I can't afford to have you wreaking yourself for no worthwhile reason."

"As you wish…Captain," Data finished. For Data, the dilemma may not have been resolved completely as he wished, but at least he had some ideas.

* * *

Picard was left alone in his quiet captain's quarters. Because of this he had time to meditate on certain matters.

The one set of matter that entered his mind was commemorating live heroes, aside from dead ones, and how to go about it. This thought prompted him to consult his first officer.

He tapped his combadge. "Picard to Commander Riker," he called.

"I'm listening in," came the reply.

* * *

That was the end of this chapter, folks. And now...for a little overview...

A/N: For many children in the 24th century, there were many legendary heroes to know and appreciate, but probably any one of these children could get wrapped up romanticizing legendary heroes would give anything just to have what the five colonial children had in the form of encountering someone just as interesting and just as noble like the Chaplain himself.

* * *

A few days back I decided to consult "pansyphoenix" about how to set up this chapter. I summed up the situation like this:

* * *

It suddenly dawned on me that after the Chaplain had died, assuming you have been reading the recently submitted Chapter 58, that I had one important issue to address during this time.

You know what that is? Ah, that's it. *slaps had to his head* Yeah, I got it. Sort of…

It's called…

**Loss of Faith**.

Yup. It's the one aspect that nearly slipped my mind. You see, here's the situation: Chaplain Garland is dead, (Whoops, did I let a spoiler slip out of my rambling mouth?), and the children seem disappointed about what the marvels of modern medicine in the 24th century can do.

I'm not talking about loss of faith in God here. Well, some aspects of it might reflect here, and I'm open to suggestions as to how to go about reflecting this type of aspect in this particular chapter. In fact, the children seem more than just disappointed about the Chaplain's death, I think. They even go so far as to lose faith in the modern marvels of the 24th century, specifically the aspect concerning saving a person's life.

* * *

Then my question list went as follows in an email message to her:

* * *

Before I proceed further, I must pose two serious questions, and they all have to deal with keeping both Felicity and Elizabeth _in character_. The first question that is brought to mind is this: **Even at eleven years of age, is it possible for Elizabeth, who is known for having some sort of penchant for sensibility even at her age, to have her optimism in the modern marvels of ****24****th**** century (completely) shattered simply because these modern marvels couldn't restore Chaplain Garland's health?** I'm also mighty curious as to how Elizabeth (and Felicity, and the rest of the children) would react to the harsh reality that sometimes the modern marvels of the 24th century (being far advanced than the ones in _our_ time) can't solve _all_ of humankind's problems. As you might remember, from the first time Felicity and friends stepped on board the _Enterprise_ they were so impressed over the advanced stuff (that most 24th century people in their time would usually take for granted). They were impressed with the holodeck, and they were impressed with the Main Sickbay and the other areas (during their tour of the _Enterprise_, hosted by Transporter Chief Miles O'Brien). The Borg battle may have been one of the harsh stuff ever to be faced by the children, but the Chaplain's death seems to hit the children pretty hard, especially Elizabeth, who (as probably implied throughout the story) seems to know the Chaplain quite well…as a dear friend…through many of the counseling sessions she and the Chaplain had had together. And now all of a sudden Elizabeth, along with the rest of the children, is hit hard by a loss of a friend they knew and could trust.

The second question is this: **Would it be in-character or out-of-character for Elizabeth to act like everything in life is hopeless simply because Dr. Crusher couldn't save Chaplain Garland, even if Dr. Crusher managed to save Ben's life?** Would Elizabeth start having bouts of jealous feelings that Ben's life was saved and the Chaplain's life wasn't? I was thinking of having Felicity act that way, but as it so seems, it is Elizabeth herself who's hit hard even more with the loss of the Chaplain because she seemed to know the Chaplain more than the rest of the children knew him. (I might be wrong about that; if that's so, do expound on the reasons.) Do you think it would be out-of-character for Elizabeth to moan "woe is me" simply because the Chaplain's life couldn't be saved? Or would she usually maintain her composure, come to her senses (like a fairly sensible girl, as Elizabeth usually is) and eventually come to the realization that everything has its own time (I don't know how else to phrase this…)?

* * *

"pansyphoenix" whipped up a rather scholarly response for my dilemma.

* * *

You pose some very interesting questions there, Commander, and rightfully so! Looking at it from the point of view of someone who's literally had 18th-century-research burnout, I did read a lot on the subject of faith in that time, and everyone more or less was raised in their religion with the belief that only God has the right to take a life, and that everyone has a destined 'time' to die. The children come from a time when disease ran rampant, and often the so-called 'cures' were worse than the affliction itself! Lots of things were used as treatments and they failed, and this had to be accepted simply as 'the way it was'. Now in such an advanced time and society such as the 24th century and even in the presence of so many life-saving devices and treatments, one simple notion would, in my unprofessional opinion, shine clearly in the heads of these youngsters: "It was his time."

They have seen that there are many things that make life easier, healthier, and a bit overwhelming, but even in such a time, it might be obvious to them that God still has control, and that the beloved chaplain was called 'home.' Even in that new and fascinating century, nothing can stop death, and having come from a time when deaths came much more expectantly, Felicity and her friends might have been amazed to know how long an average person's life extended in the 24th century! But even though they come from a time where death and illness were more common burdens than in the 24th c. that still does not make human loss any easier!

Children, for the most, are resilient. The very young can adapt and learn as fast as a Borg, but how they do so differs. In the 18th c. there were no major distractions like technology, movies, etc. Moral issues WERE their life! Independence, politics, surviving day-to-day, growing up and getting married before you took your last breath at any moment. Things people of today can be lax about. Much emphasis was placed on only the Lord knowing when it was time to 'call you home.' a loved one's death was mourned heavily, but yet some part of them was expected to learn to cope. Even then life "wasn't fair" and mourning was natural (duh), but the 'forces of man' were still no match for the 'force of God' and that had to be accepted.

When you live in a time of no electricity, vaccination, or plumbing, every day is a challenge, even if you live in a place like the Governor's Palace with a bunch of slaves! But, unknowing of the luxuries of the future, people got by the best way they could and they had to be tough. Even children. I would expect Felicity and her friends to be upset and sad over the loss of such a good friend, but having come from an exceedingly tough time in history, I would think they could handle it even better than someone in the 24th c.!

Even if the very basic acceptance of death is more tolerant to handle, loss is loss, and loss sucks. To lose a close friend is a wretched thing to endure, and so naturally, they would mourn! I believe the kids would have to learn that even in an advanced age and time, God is still the one who calls the shots, death is unavoidable, and is still very much a natural part of living. Surrounded by all that impressive, seemingly-cold technology, it might even be a measure of comfort to know that people are still human and death is still a part of natural life. Death is a human thing; it invokes feelings and ends suffering. Being around all that technology, I know that I would like to know that there are still natural signs of the human cycle! They might even possess the understanding that Heaven is the ultimate home, and that friends and family will be reunited there without the worries of pain and death.

Being of the softest heart and soul, naturally Elizabeth would hurt the most. Of course she would feel the loss of a good friend and go the whole life-just-isn't-fair, why-did-this-have-to-happen gamut of emotion, but having come from tough times it would be, even on a tiny level, sooner accepted than someone who is used to having technology to solve problems and cure injuries. People did find immense comfort in their religions back then, seemingly more so than now, and that is something the children would have to fall back upon, possibly unlike their 24th c. counterparts!

I don't know if I have been any help to you at all, but if I have, hurray for the both of us. Let me know what you think, okay? Looking forward to the next chapter!

* * *

And that's pretty much it...

A big "Thank You" to "pansyphoenix" for assisting me with the emotional (and theological) aspects of this chapter. Yay!

* * *

Capt. Picard seems to have something…special in mind. Find out…on the next upcoming Chapter!


	61. Chapter 61

_**Star Trek: The Next Generation – Souvenirs**_

**Written By:**_** Commander Cody CC-2224**_

CHAPTER 61

The next day the five children were led to the Ten-Forward lounge. As usual they were dressed in their era-appropriate attire. In addition to that their hands were bound with electronic handcuffs. It was almost as if they were going to be given some sort of show trial, which was precisely what Ben was thinking, much to his own newfound resentment.

Behind the children was Capt. Picard. The entire group proceeded to the stage right in front of the fairly thronged audience. Also in Picard's lead was his First Officer, Commander Riker, acting as his right hand man, and a young man in blue uniform. The children were made to sit on a satin white plastic chair each at the left-hand side of the makeshift lounge stage, which was really in the form of a square-ish clearing near the large center lounge window.

Capt. Picard centered himself onstage before beginning his piece. "We regret to inform you, gentlemen...and ladies...that in the course of this battle five children on board this ship…the _Enterprise_…put their lives in jeopardy in order to help turn the tide of battle…on the side of humanity. This they did…despite being explicitly ordered to remain in the shelter of their Guest Quarters."

Silence filled the room before Picard resumed.

"But...in spite of…what might be officially called…civil disobedience…these children deserve…to have their personal valor recognized."

Ben turned at Felicity with a wry face. At least just to have their personal valor recognized was a boon, given the level of danger that he and his friends were in.

"All right, Mr. Bates," Picard announced with some degree of finality. "You may take the handcuffs off."

"Sir?" Lt. Bates asked the captain rather inquisitively.

"You heard me, Lieutenant," said Picard.

"But sir…what they did…shouldn't they…"

"I'd be hesitant to be much to hard on them, Lieutenant, given that each of them performed…valorous deeds…beyond the call of duty. For their age, that is."

Lt. Bates fished out the handcuff keys. Then in a fairly nimble manner he proceeded to unlock the handcuffs. First he started with Ben, who was seated at the very left of the left hand side of the stage. He inserted the key tip into a circular keyhole and turned the knob clockwise. The handcuffs came off. Bates then did the same thing with each of the four children.

"And now, ladies and gentlemen…" continued Capt. Picard, "…The moment…you have all been waiting for…um, assuming of course it's really something to look forward to. It has come to the approval of the admiralty that each of these five children from our own time, after all they had been through during the course of the battle against the Borg in taking up the call to arms, possibly beyond the call of duty…" His eyes shifted on the seated children. "And I have to admit, it wasn't that simple to begin with, nor an easy choice to make," he muttered before resuming in orator's audio volume. "…Deserve…an award far grander than what is…normally awarded…to ordinary children their age. Ladies and gentlemen, by approval from the admiralty in Starfleet's chain of command, I award them…"

The crowd was hushed, waiting for Picard to strike the tone.

"The Starfleet Medal of Honor," he finished in a fairly low tone of voice.

The sound of applause erupted all across the room. Some people were a mite enthusiastic, and some were bored, but they paid their respects by their handclapping, whether it may have been enthusiastic or not. As the applause went on, the captain gingerly picked up a single medallion which appeared as the Starfleet Medal of Honor in the 2200s version. Starting with Ben, he put the medal around him. Then he shook hands with Ben in a manly manner.

Picard then did the same thing with the rest of the remaining four children, starting with Felicity. Then he started with Elizabeth, then Nan, and lastly, William. After the awarding procedure, Capt. Picard retreated to the back end of the stage.

* * *

As the audience finished the event with thunderous applause, the rest of the children took leave of the stage. The only person a mite hesitant to leave the stage with her friends and siblings was Felicity, much to the dismay of Ben and Elizabeth, and most likely Nan's and William's.

"Um…before the ceremony is concluded…" Felicity began. The hubbub calmed, awaiting what Felicity had to say.

Felicity cleared her throat, purely out of nervousness. This would be the first time she ever made a speech in front of a crowd, even if there didn't seem to be that many people in the Ten-Forward lounge.

"I…um…I would like to say a few words…regarding the bravery of one of our party…whom I knew briefly…as Commander Kese." She finished the sentence with an uneasy gulp in her throat. "I…I do hope I'm pronouncing his name correctly, those names…are very foreign to an English girl like _me_."

Loud, hearty laughs echoed all across the lounge at various intervals and rhythms before Felicity resumed her speech.

"Before I joined the party…I rashly criticized him…for his seeming cowardice. I suppose…Kese…if you will…said that I…as a mere girl…could afford to make such judgmental criticisms because back in my time, 'tis considered…"most improper"…as my younger sister Nan always keeps saying to me…for ladies to fight."

Guffaws echoled across the room. Felicity had to wait a little before the mild hubbub died down.

"'Tis not easy for me to admit this, but I have to, because without such admittance, one will have difficulty appreciating the courage of Commander Kese, especially on account of his vulnerability to those scary creatures. Sometimes, I keep forgetting that we…" her face became squeamish, knowing that she was about to blurt out a statement deemed potentially embarrassing to her, at least from her own point of view. "…We should not judge other people without…knowing. When I criticized the Commander, I did not bear in mind…that his position was precarious…so to speak…that if he was captured…his folk would be doomed. Criticized by him in return, I decided…" There was a break of hesitation. "…To _prove_ myself that I could be as brave as any other man…or boy. Whatever. Maybe it was foolishness, you could all say. But I don't care one bit."

In the past, Felicity seemed to have the tendency to waver between bravery and foolishness, and she felt she still had that tendency to waver on that matter, too. "But in my perspective between the Commander…and myself…" Felicity continued, "…I think Kese is the bravest. When I think back to the days when I attempted quite a handful of boneheaded actions…such as walking on fences, rescuing Penny, alerting the townsfolk of my hometown in Williamsburg about Governor Dunmore stealing the gunpowder, and saving Ben's skin…it seems…that getting some sort of an award for bravery…gets to be…a little…ordinary…and you start wondering…whether you deserve it or not. (takes a deep breath, as she is about to do the unconventional, and she feels herself beginning to blush) I think 'twould make me feel a whole lot better…if I personally awarded this medal…to Commander Kese."

Commander Kese quizzically pointed his right hand finger to himself. "_Me_?" he asked rather skeptically to the girl.

"Yes, _you_, Commander," said Felicity with an impish smile.

Kese got up rather awkwardly from his front seet and walked up on stage. Felicity took off the medal and pinned it on Kese's left side of his grayish-violet uniform in a dainty fashion.

The audience had difficulty deciding as to whether they should applaud on this one. But in actuality someone else started the clap. It was the twelve-year-old girl with dark-blonde hair who was mighty stubborn enough to commandeer a starship during the Battle of the Corellian Sector, when humanity was engaged in a major fight against a dreaded Borg onslaught. When she witnessed the five colonial children being awarded for their personal valor, possibly beyond the call of duty, she started wishing she would be remembered, even to the point of daydreaming about all the accolades she might receive, or was longing to receive. She started imagining that she was into eh same spot in the stage where the children were. Little did she know that her time in the spotlight arrive come after the children's awarding event.

* * *

In the midst of all that fairly thunderous applause, Felicity stepped off-stage. She walked back near Ben in her seat near Ben itself.

"Good speech, Lissie-girl," Ben whispered to Felicity with great eagerness. "Nice and short, if I may say."

Felicity blushed a bit and just shook her head a little. _So modest_, Ben thought to himself. He was dumbfounded over whether to scold her or admire her.

"Your face has reddened," Ben remarked. "A bit, mayhap."

"Is it?" asked Felicity, putting both hands on her cheeks.

"Um…probably," said Ben, shrugging his shoulders.

"Well…" said Felicity rather hesitantly, before putting her hands down. It was at this point that Ben decided to get to the matter of Felicity awarding the Medal of Honor to Commander Kese.

"You gave _him_ your medal?" asked Ben.

"'Twas only the right thing to do," said Felicity. "I…I really didn't think I deserved it that much. I just joined…because I was…outraged." Felicity was beginning to feel stupid in what she was saying to Ben at this present moment.

"I think you do," said Ben, as if Felicity really deserved that medal. "But you've already give your medal to him, so 'twould hurt his feeling if you were to just snatch it back. I'll give you mine instead."

"Ben, _please_," said Felicity, as she tried to politely decline the generous offer.

"Girls that are exceptionally brave in action and the line of fire are far and few," said Ben. "Lissie, I insist." He sounded pretty serious about it.

Felicity couldn't help chuckling a bit over Ben's genuine seriousness over offering Felicity his medal. "Are you…are you doing this because it makes you feel better?" she asked him rather coyly.

"Partly," said Ben a little stiffly. "But I think you can consider it…as my friendship gift. To you."

Felicity chuckled again. "Well, in that case, I shall take it." She gently took the medal from Ben. "But what about _you_, Ben?" she asked him as she fingered the medal in tender affection.

"There will be many opportunities to get decorated for valor…if I join Washington's Army…when I reach eighteen…assuming if I still want to," said Ben, as if he was so confidently certain that many more opportunities like that would really come.

"Why, might you still change your mind?" asked Felicity a bit worriedly. The idea of Ben joining Washington's army wasn't too farfetched; it probably was what Ben was planning to do when he reached his 18th birthday. It was still pretty difficult for Felicity to get this lingering worry out of her anxious eleven-year-old head.

"Hard to say…for certain," said Ben, rolling his eyes. "I might…I might not. Who knows? Guess I'm rather…unpredictable…sometimes," he finished with a mischievous grin.

"I don't suppose I can argue with that…" said Felicity. She really wished that Ben didn't have to join the army…if she and her friends manage to get back home to their own time."

The event for the children seemed to be finished. What was taking place now was the medal awarding of the girl that led the applause.

"And finally," announced Capt. Picard, I would like to call up our next candidate for the Starfleet Medal of Honor…Dakota…Price…"


	62. Chapter 62

_**Star Trek: The Next Generation – Souvenirs**_

**Written By:**_** Commander Cody CC-2224**_

CHAPTER 62

The same day… Day _

In Ten-Forward, Felicity, Nan, William, Ben, and Elizabeth were seated around a lone table. They decided to put the idea of going back to their own timeline to a vote, as they discussed that particularly troubling issue amongst themselves. Because their decision would be one that would affect all of them, the children decided to be quite honest amongst themselves over the decision of going back or staying behind.

"As head of this little group," Ben said pretty quietly, but in a manner that each of the children could hear what he was saying, "I would no doubt decide…that all of us should go back to the year 1776."

The rest of the children cast a long look at Ben with an attitude of disappointment, which was reflected in each of their faces. Even though they may not have had a lot of blinding faith in the modern marvels of the 24th century, they felt they would be better off in the 24th century than in the 18th century. There were so many interesting things to enjoy; so many things to experience. There were technical innovations that could ease their lives and even allow them to go on living longer for the rest of their natural lives. If they left the 24th century they would never be able to come back to that time. Ever.

"However, Ben continued, "There seem to be among you girls…and boy…some who want to stay in this time."

There was a moment of silence before Ben continued.

"So I'm calling in a vote…regarding both decisions."

There was another brief moment of silence as the children pondered over both decisions, whether to stay in the 24th century…or go home.

"The Reverend…" began Elizabeth. "He died…so he could give_ all_ of us…a chance to go back." As if everyone in this entire group should remember and honor the late Chaplain Garland's wishes.

"I would like all of us to stay…here," said Felicity, referring to the 24th century. "For all our sakes."

"But what about your family, Lissie?" asked Elizabeth in an innocently small voice. "Mine, too. I rather miss them. I'm sure you do, too, and so do your little brother and sister. And Ben as well, I'm sure."

Ben simply snorted over this matter. His father had died in a conflict against the Cherokee Indians in the west of Virginia territory. His sister died of consumption. The only close relation he had left was his mother.

Felicity looked at little Nan and William and heaved a rather heavy sigh. Both the little mites looked up to their eldest sister with great longing, as if their fates depended on her casting her vote. _They most likely wanted to go home, too, _Felicity thought to herself. The desire to go home was in their longing eyes.

"I miss Mother and Polly," said Nan innocently. "Polly's so adorable."

"I miss Father," said William in a frank manner for his age.

"You're right, Elizabeth," Felicity admitted to her best friend. "You're _so_ right. Nan and William do miss our family. I think I'm finding myself to strongly feeling the same, too."

"That's _two_ already"," said Ben. Myself included, that makes _three_."

"Oh, don't you worry anymore, Benjamin Davidson," sighed Felicity. "She held Ben's left hand with her right hand. "The vote will no doubt be _completely_ unanimous."

"Nan and William have decided to come along, too, and given that we can't just simply leave them here," Elizabeth put forth.

"Not to mention what Father and Mother would say…if they turned up missing when we come back to _their_ abode," said Felicity, forcing a laugh which seemed to sound so wry and probably filled with disappointment and possibly cynicism over the unanimous decision the children were making amongst themselves.

Ben exhaled steadily. "All right then…that settles it all," he declared. "I guess this concludes this little conference."

"Oh, but…" Felicity was about to interject.

"Yes, Lissie?" asked Ben straightly and forthrightly.

"Before we…adjourn…" Then Felicity started giggling. She had a grand idea and she wasn't going to simply let it go into the mental nothingness. "I think…that maybe before we could leave…"

Everyone in the group was already staring at Felicity with anticipation with whatever suggestion she is about to share among her siblings and friends.

"…Well…since my birthday is coming up…I thought that…maybe we could…you know…"

Ben started rolling his eyes, thinking to himself that he knew just what Felicity was talking about.

"You want… all of us…to be celebrating your birthday…on the _Enterprise_?" he asked Felicity in an incredulous manner.

Felicity nodded her head twice with a radiant but impish pixie grin of a pixie-princess. Her idea was finally beginning to have some fair measure of influence among this little group. Elizabeth, Nan, and William shifted their eyes on Ben, and then on Felicity.


	63. Chapter 63

_**Star Trek: The Next Generation – Souvenirs**_

**Written By:**_** Commander Cody CC-2224**_

CHAPTER 63

In the nearly damaged guest quarters, Felicity was celebrating her upcoming eleventh birthday during the eleventh hour with her siblings and friends during a homely birthday celebration. The celebration was officially opened with Felicity blowing out her eleven candles plated in a complete circle over a replicated chocolate cake coated with a decorative and thick half-inch snow-white layer of sugary icing. The cake was situated in the middle of a brand-new American wooden pine office desk, which replaced the old one after it got heavily damaged during the breach blast caused by Lt. Commander Worf, as well as by the vicious Guest Quarters tussle with the Borg Queen; hence the necessity and rationale behind replacing the old Guest Quarters office desk.

Before each of the children could dig in, have their cake, and eat it, too, Ben decided to propose a semi-official toast to the friends they made on board the _Enterprise_. He started the toast by raising his elegant wineglass filled to the brim with apple cider. Each of the wineglasses and even the apple cider were straight out of the Guest Quarters replicator (which miraculously escaped undamaged).

"To the Reverend Garland," he said quite genially. "Who gave his life to defend..." He cast one long glance at the older girls and Felicity's little siblings before he nervously cleared his throat. "Who gave his life to defend...Lissie, Lizzie, and little Nan and William...in my unfortunate absence."

Felicity raised her own little wineglass, too. "To Ben," she said with a little giggle. "To the alien commander Kese, Mr. Data, Mr. Worf...and the rest of the crew who fought the horrific zombies...with...how do I put it...'uncommon valor', as the captain said about us..."

"For all our sakes?" asked Ben.

"Aye," replied Felicity. "And to Ben..." she giggled again, "For being our protective 'big brother' in keeping us together during our stay on this...flying ship."

Elizabeth raised her glass, too. "To Lissie," she said with a touch of grace. "For her bravery...when I was not so brave myself."

"Yes, you were," little Nan protested. "You looked after us when me and William were scared."

"But the Reverend had to look after me, too," Elizabeth had to remind them. "Because I was scared, too." Elizabeth's face began to reflect some sort of sadness over remembering what the Chaplain did for her and her best friend's siblings. But the words from little Nan did really warm her heart, for it made her feel like an older sister to the two little mites, after being so used to being the youngest sister in her family.

"And to Elizabeth," Felicity was obliged to acknowledge openly among the little group. "For being...our own little heart and soul...among us." Being the heart and soul in this little group was quite a responsibility for Elizabeth to take, since it involved keeping the little group together, along with Felicity. If it wasn't for Elizabeth, Felicity and Ben would have parted on acrimonious terms. If it wasn't for Elizabeth, Ben would have put his own personal ambitions ahead of the needs of the little group. If it wasn't for Elizabeth, the children would not have met Chaplain Garland.

"Hear, hear," Ben finished.

"Hear, hear," the older girls and Nan and William said together in a chorus. Then the children slowly sipped their apple cider from their replicated wineglasses.

In a relative few minutes the door chime was rung, only be followed by a recitation of "Come in" said by the children together. Captain Picard and Counselor Troi entered the quest quarters.

Ben proceeded to inform Capt. Picard that they were ready to go back to their own timeline.

"My friends and I were talking over the idea of going back to our own time," he said quietly to the captain. "It has turned out so far…" He took a deep breath, as if his verdict decision would be forever irreversible, once fully implemented. "…That we have agreed to go back."

"So all of you have decided…on your own accord?" asked Capt. Picard quite seriously. He was aware of how the serious the matter really was; once the children went back to their own time, they would never have another opportunity to go back to the 24th century. It was as if the children were taking a one-way road with a one-way ticket.

"Aye, sir," Ben said quite genuinely.

"All of you are sure that this is what you want?" Picard wanted to confirm with Ben one more time.

"Sir?" Ben asked rather inquisitively in his desire for clarity to get him out of his confusion.

"You…and your friends…are in a position where you do not hold an influential place in history to warrant mandatory temporal transportation to your own time," Picard informed Ben quite seriously. "I know that I would be violating the Temporal Prime Directive for giving you a choice to stay…but I'm willing to make an exception, because you really aren't that important in the course of Earth history."

"Well, we've already made up our decision regarding this…transportation," said Ben with a sigh. "'Tis what we want. Really."

"You wouldn't want to take advantage of the opportunity to make a choice to stay in this century?"

Ben was beginning to feel pretty suspicious about how the captain was dealing with this. Was he influencing him to stay in the 24th century? He looked back at Felicity, who was eagerly chatting with Elizabeth.

"Felicity would," said Ben. "I would, too, if I were her." He turned his head back to face the captain. "But the others miss their loved ones. Besides, I need a sense of purpose in life, in the area where I'm most good at."

Picard nodded his head in agreement. "Very well," he said finally. "I'll make arrangements for a Corellian vessel to pick you up and transport you and your friends back through time."

The request to go back to the 18th century was now confirmed. Ben had already made a decision that would affect the fates of his friends. He gulped back, seeing that this seemingly fateful decision had now been made. "Thank you…sir," he said quietly.

"Don't mention it," said the captain.

Ben walked off to join the others in the simple festivities. Capt. Picard intently watched the gathering with great interest and already found himself relapsing into a bit of daydreaming. By this point Counselor Troi had two plates with a slice of the chocolate cake. She offered one of them to Picard, as the other one was for her.

"Cake, Captain?" Troi asked him in a rather cheerfully.

"Oh, thank you, Counselor," Picard replied in a genial manner, as he took the proffered plate and fork. Troi set herself to watching the youngsters' gathering as well.

"Somehow, you never cease to be fascinated with the domestic habits of 18th century youngsters," remarked Troi understandingly, as she took notice of Picard watching the children celebrate Felicity's upcoming eleventh birthday on the _Enterprise_. Picard nodded in agreement, too carried away by the scene.


	64. Chapter 64

_**Star Trek: The Next Generation – Souvenirs**_

**Written By:**_** Commander Cody CC-2224**_

CHAPTER 64

The Corellian Science Vessel _K'Vat_ cruised by the _Enterprise_ and _K'Mar_ at one-quarter impulse power. The _K'Vat_ had a large, illuminated purple elegant emblem of a planet with rings, as the Corellian homeworld had rings like that of Saturn. Its body was very sleek.

* * *

The children were on Deck _, on their way to Transporter Room 2, which is on that same deck. Lt. Keswick decided to take the opportunity to take aside Elizabeth for just a little moment. Lt. Keswick took a nervous breath before handled the occasion.

"Miss Cole?" asked Lt. Keswick.

"Hmm?" asked Elizabeth shyly.

"There's something that I want to do…and say…with you."

Elizabeth gave a glance at her friends and decided to hear what Keswick had to say…or do.

Keswick photographed Elizabeth entirely with his digital camera sideways. His digital camera looked very much like an antiquated Polaroid camera. Then Keswick used his special tricorder device to scan Elizabeth entire on every area.

"Might I ask what you're doing _that_ for?" asked Elizabeth.

"Scanning you," replied Keswick. "For the purposes of making a holographic image..of you." He then shut up his tricorder. He was done.

"I don't think I'll ever see you again," said Elizabeth. "You know…the real you."

"The real _me_?" asked Elizabeth with a light chuckle. She didn't seem to know what she meant. Could he have possibly meant Elizabeth as she was?

"Yes," said Keswick quite frankly. "I think I've grown rather fond of you, I haveto admit, to the point where I can't help staring at you whenever the opportunity presents itself."

Elizabeth stared at Keswick rather suspiciously.

"But don't…don't worry about me," said Keswick. "I can always make a virtual, interactive program of you. It won't be the same as meeting…_you_…you know, um…but it'll do for compensation."

Capt. Picard started whistling bird calls to Elizabeth.

"I've got to go," said Elizabeth. "Please excuse me." She made a graceful curtsy before Keswick stopped her short.

"I know," said Keswick. He sounded pretty disappointed; this was the first and only time he ever got to meet Elizabeth, and he would have to say good-bye so soon, just as he had already introduced himself. But at least he had his photo of her…and his tricorder scans. "Thanks for letting me to this…though."

"Least I could do," said Elizabeth with a smile. She curtsied again and graciously took her leave of the young boy to catch up with her friends who were ahead of her.

As Elizabeth walks away, Lt. Bates walks up behind him. "Wheeew!" he said behind him. Keswick got pretty cross with him as he gave him a cross face and Keswick left the scene, shrugging his shoulders, toting a box of replicated ammo parts.

Very soon he came across a dark-blonde haired, hazel-eyed girl. She smiled back at him, and he smiled back rather sheepishly, as Keswick kept browsing through his tricorder.

"What's your name?" the girl asked in her British Cockney accent.

"Keswick," the boy replied rather simply.

"'Keswick'?" asked the girl, smiling rather coyly, though inside her she could be quite rough and tough if she wanted to. "Just 'Keswick'?"

"Um…yeah," replied Keswick in a rather terse manner.

"Don't you have a first name?" asked the girl.

Keswick looked up. His face was friendly.

"Why yes, I do," he said in a genial manner. "I'm James.

"Dakota Price," said the girl, extending her hand for shaking. "Dakota Price."

"Pleased to meet you," said Keswick.

The two paired up and were on the way to becoming fast friends as they talked about various things that were new to them.

* * *

Capt. Picard and the five colonial children met up with the rest of the senior officers gathered at the beaming event. This event was arranged by the captain as a farewell party. Transporter Chief Miles O'Brien was standing by on the active transporter controls.

"Well…" began the captain. "This is the moment."

"That we've all been waiting for," finished Ben.

Dr. Crusher came forward. "Miss Merriman?" she asked. Felicity faced the good doctor.

"The captain and I thought…you should have this." Dr. Crusher handed the rectangular box over to Felicity. Felicity eagerly opened it.

"Oh, my goodness!" exclaimed Felicity excitedly. Elizabeth took a peer. Nan and William were competing to get even a glance at what was in that box. Ben had no trouble peering at what was into the box, too.

In the box were two laminated copies of the photograph taken in Dr. Crusher's Biomedical Lab a few days ago.

The whole thing about encountering a photograph was so unusual to the children after they were so used to seeing paintings of important people. This photograph of the five children in the era-appropriate attire that they were wearing right now was so real and so lifelike to them; much more lifelike than even the finest paintings they could set their utterly amazed eyes on.

"Doctor…this is wonderful," said Elizabeth. "I've…I've never seen anything like this."

"Neither did I," said Ben.

"It looks so real!" exclaimed Nan.

Felicity looked up. "How…how did you manage to get this?"

"Um…we used a digital camera," replied Dr. Crusher.

"What's that?" asked Ben.

"Well, the camera is a device that uses light to capture a subject," Dr. Crusher answered rather awkwardly in the simplest, if not half-comprehensible of technical terms. "Um…I don't know how else to explain the functionalities of the camera, dear."

Felicity looked up. "Doctor, I…I don't know how to thank you for this," she said seriously.

"Well, we have the file," said Dr. Crusher. "The image file, I mean. It's yours to keep."

Felicity turned her head to face the captain of the _Enterprise_, who was starting to have a half-smile etching his face, as if he seemed somewhat sad to see the children go.

"I guess…this is goodbye," said Capt. Picard.

"Possibly forever," added Felicity quietly, hanging her head.

"I may feel as if I've been saying this…_line_…over a thousand times when made every encounter with an alien race…," began the captain. "But…" He stopped to celar his throat. "…It has been an honor…knowing you," he finished with finality.

Felicity smiled back with a little blush in her face. She was starting to the impression that she, along with her friends and siblings, were famous for their arrival from their time. "The pleasure…was all mine," she replied sweetly.

The two shook hands. After that Ben shook hands with the captain as well. Then Felicity turned to her younger siblings, thinking that they, too, should shake hands with the captain as a part of a farewell courtesy.

"Nan? William? Aren't you going to shake the captain's hand goodbye?" she asked her two little siblings sweetly.

Being somewhat shy more than unenthusiastic, both Nan and William timidly walked up to the seemingly intimidating figure of Capt. Picard, who was kneeling on the floor with one leg, and with a genial smile in his bald face extending his right hand. Nan looked back at her eldest sister, who was standing beside her on Nan's right. As if coming to Nan's little silent supplication of help on handling her little social dilemma, Felicity gently took Nan's little right arm and lifted it up until it was within Capt. Picard's reach. Picard, finding himself almost touched by this scene of sibling affection and aid, simply felt compelled to return the offered hand. He returned the handshake half-promptly, squeezing Nan's little hand very lightly. Nan felt so relieved that there was someone beside her to help her and protect her in case something bad happened to her, like getting scolded or receiving a stern glance from the captain simply because of her shyness.

Next was little William. When Capt. Picard let Nan's hand go, Felicity nudged William a little to shake the captain's hand. William offered his right hand at Felicity's beckoning. Picard returned the favor.

Elizabeth was next. Voluntarily she offered to shake the captain's hand, and Picard was only too glad to honor this silent request for handshake. Nearly three seconds lasted before both Elizabeth and the captain parted hands. For all the children knew, this would very much be the first and last time that they would ever have the honor and the privilege of meeting the captain of the _Enterprise_.

The rest of the senior officers were next in line. Each of the children shook hands with the senior officers. First it was Commander William Riker. Then it was Lt. Commander Worf, Dr. Crusher, addressed by the five children as the "Good Doctor," the "Miss Counselor" Deanna Troi, Chief Engineer and Geordi La Forge. The last officer to shake hands with each of the children was the Transporter Chief Miles O'Brien, and he did so with a tight smile that seemed to indicate that he was getting so carried away with shaking the hands of children from a much earlier part of Earth's history, specifically that of America's Thirteen Colonies.

Ben was already finding himself pretty carried away as well with the farewell scene, as he knew this would be the very last time he would see the officers again, and he just wanted to enjoy every moment of this.

That was, until Capt. Picard motioned him by right hand gesture to move up to the transporter pad. Slowly, with some degree of uncertainty and trepidation within himself, he slowly and cautiously took the first step. Then like a (gracious) gentleman, he helped "his Lissie" up the transporter pad. At Felicity's beckoning, Nan and William stepped up to the transporter, too, with her best friend Elizabeth following those two little mites behind.

When all five children were finally on the transporter pad, Capt. Picard then turned his head to eh left direction to face the transporter chief. "Energize, he ordered quite bluntly.

Miles O'Brien manipulated the transporter console settings in a very relaxed manner, as if there was absolutely no need for hurry with the beaming process. After slowly placing his hand over a single touch-button on his right of the LCD touch screen, he held that button down. A resonant hum resounded, at first, then that hum intensified as the transporter pad floor slowly lit up brightly with its bright and heavenly fluorescent lighting. Beaming particles surrounded the children all around them until they finally dissolved from the transporter itself.

And that was the last of what Capt. Picard and the rest of the senior officers ever saw of the children.

"I'm gonna miss 'em," said O'Brien sentimentally. Picard chuckled lightly over O'Brien's seemingly sentimental statement. So did Riker.

"What?" asked O'Brien in indignation. "You really think I don't mean it?"

This argumentative moment was interrupted by a voice on the comm.. It was the voice of a young man.

"Bridge to Capt. Picard," said the voice over the comm.

Picard instinctively tapped his combadge. "Go ahead," he replied.

"Admiral Hayes demands to speak with you."

Picard sighed. "On my way." He left the transporter room.

* * *

Capt. Picard entered the Main Bridge. "On screen," he demanded while walking up to his captain's chair. At that very instant the face of Admiral Hayes appeared on the view-screen.

"Yes, Admiral?" Picard prompted right away.

"Once again, good to see you alive…and _well_…Jean-Luc."

"Why, thank you for the compliment, Admiral," said Picard rather genially. "Any chance, perhaps, of securing the necessary supplies and personnel for our trip back home?"

"I"ve already ordered the _U.S.S. Falkenberg_ to rendezvous at your parking spot," said the Admiral. "That brand new Merced-class refit I'm talking about? They're bringing in some fresh, brand-new warp cores and a handful of engineers to assist with fixing your damaged warp drives."

"We could also do with a bit more personnel who specialize with structural repairs for our on-the-go spruce-ups," mentioned Picard.

"Also on their way," added Hayes rather genially.

Picard nodded in acknowledgement of Hayes' offer of assistance. "Is there anything else, Admiral?" he asked. He wanted to save time by asking about anything the Admiral might have in mind so that he could both do what the Admiral wanted _and_ get home at the very same time.

"Not really," said Hayes. "But how 'bout sayin' 'Thank you'?"

"My gratitude for your assistance…goes with you," said Picard, trying to flatter him a bit.

"That's awfully reassuring to hear," said Hayes. I'm gonna mop up the rest of the fleet. The _Falkenberg_ will stay behind with you till you make the necessary repairs; then _you_ and the _Falkenberg_ can catch up later.

"My personal thanks, Admiral," said Picard, smiling.

"Godspeed, Captain," finished Hayes. "Hayes out."

Admiral Hayes disappeared from the view-screen, and the screen immediately changed to show the other starships about to disembark with the Admiral himself.

"Mr. La Forge, what's our status with the warp engines?" he inquired his Chief Engineer.

Commander La Forge promptly answered from the Engineering room on his combadge. "Only one more to install, Captain!" he called. "Then we're all set!"

"How long do you estimate will that take?" Picard inquired further.

"About a minute, give or take," replied La Forge.

Picard then turned to his android officer. "Mr. Data, how goes the repair crew?"

Data continued tapping touch-buttons on his station monitor. "Repair personnel are already stationed on Decks 3 to 4, Sections 6 through 10, and 7 to 8, sections 9 and 12. There are other personnel stationed on the lower decks as well."

"Excellent Work, Data," Picard said to him, slapping him across the back. "And our course to home?" Picard inquired his trusty navigator.

"Where, specifically, sir?" queried Keswick.

"Back to Earth, Lieutenant," said Picard. "To Earth."

"Oh," said Lt. Keswick rather casually, feeling relaxed a bit. He tapped the multiple touch-buttons on the NAV console as he punched in the Earth-bound coordinates.

La Forge finally broke radio silence over the comm. "Warp cores are finally installed, Captain!" he called.

"Good work, Mr. La Forge!" Picard congratulated him in return. Then he turned to his navigator. "Is our course laid in?" he inquired.

Keswick looked up at the captain, having been a bit perplexed from his mild daydreaming. "Sir?" he asked in a faltering manner.

"Our heading back to Planet Earth," Picard said to him quite seriously.

"C'mon, Kessie-boy," called Lt. Bates. "Snap out of your childhood crush with that blonde-haired, blue-eyed Elizabeth Cole chic."

"Quiet, Lieutenant," said Picard half-humorously.

"It's not, Elizabeth Cole anymore," said Keswick. "It's a new girl, and her name is Miss Dakota Price."

Riker looked at the young man in a rather incredulous manner. "Capt. William Price's daughter?" he asked.

"That's…what she said," said Keswick. "This was after Capt. Price died…on the _Exeter_…so she told me."

Picard decided to get back to this matter later. Right now he needed his helmsman to take the _Enterprise_ home. "Keswick?" he called.

Kese finally straightened himself out. "Yes, Captain," he finally answered Picard in a fairly confident manner.

Picard, however, didn't think Lt. Keswick would fully comply with his orders. He cast a suspicious glance at him before confirming that Keswick actually received his orders. "To Earth. Right?" he asked his young helmsman.

"Yes, sir," Keswick said in a calm and relaxing tone of voice.

"Good," said Picard half-tersely. Then he turned his head forward to the view-screen. "Helm, take us home."

The _Enterprise_ and the Korolev class starship _Falkenberg_ finally jumped into maximum warp…on the journey home.

* * *

A/N: As mentioned before in Chapter 49, Lt. Commander Data was informing the captain that the _Enterprise_ was "losing structural integrity on decks 3 to 4, sections 6 through 10". Perhaps Data decided to assign a fair handful of repair personnel to those decks because they had gotten pretty damaged...I think.


	65. Chapter 65

_**Star Trek: The Next Generation – Souvenirs**_

**Written By:**_** Commander Cody CC-2224**_

CHAPTER 65

Meanwhile…on board the _K'Vat_…

On the Main Bridge of the Corellian Science Vessel _K'Vat_ the necessary preparations are made for a jump to maximum transwarp.

"Impulse engines prepared to go on standby," reported the ship's helmsman. "Reestablishing umbilical connection with the transwarp engines."

"Coordinates set, Lieutenant Nuk'A?" inquired Captain Kos'A.

"Establishing temporal coordinates," informed the NAV operator. "Preparing to make a temporal jump to Sector 1-5-1. Coordinates set…" he turned to his right to face the ship's captain. "…to the Alpha Quadrant."

"Right into the heart of the Federation," marveled Captain Kos'A in the most dramatic manner ever. "Into a time before it even existed."

"Stand by for simultaneous temporal and coordinate jump," informed the NAV operator.

"The ship's captain gracefully took his seat in the dark-purple leather sofa chair and gave a pointed gesture with his right hand. "Lieutenant Cha'K, Engage," he commanded loudly.

"Aye, sir," replied the helmsman.

A low resonating hum resounded throughout the entire vessel as the _K'Mar_ began engaging her ultra-powerful transwarp engines. The helmsman slowly pushed the T-shaped throttle lever to maximum thruster power. Outside the vessel pale blue chronometric particles resembling classic fairy dust started emanating from the rear of the vessel right near its transwarp nacelles. In almost ten seconds the _K'Mar_ made a final super jump to maximum transwarp five light years into the heart of the known solar system, and backward in time via a temporal vortex.

As the vessel took its journey back through time and space NAV operator Nuk'A checked his pale purple-blue digital LCD interface console screen. Starting from the year 2370 chronological numerical readings on his console were slowly moving backwards, and its rapid shifting rate increased within a relative few seconds. On the left-hand side of the NAV panel could be seen the coordinates set for planet Earth. The _K'Mar_ was making a temporal jump backward in time into the heart of the known solar system…at last.

On approaching planet Earth, the vessel engaged its ethereal cloak.

"Cloak is engaged," informed the Corellian helmsman.

"Thank you, Nuk'A," replied Capt. Kos'A.

The First Officer, Bridge Commander U'Mar, was confiding to the captain in a manner as if the captain was taking him for his favorite pet. "Perhaps it's about time…that we showed our human specimens…the sacred blue planet," he said in a dramatically slow and half-raspy tone of voice. His statement was followed by a silent and serious nod from the captain himself.

In the _K'Vat_'s observation lounge…

The Observation Lounge of the Corellian Science Vessel _K'Vat_ was as large and wide as the _Enterprise_'s Ten-Forward Lounge. The _K'Vat_'s lounge was intended as some sort of gathering area for the crew personnel, but because of the huge windows spanning the front of the Corellian vessel it was also intended to observe the vastness of space and other wonders in the far-reaching galaxy.

The Lounge was also used as a dining room, as it sported many American restaurant-style tables all across the room, all neatly lined up squarely in several straight rows. The most decorative restaurant tables, the majority which were situated near the wall corners, were reserved for the Corellian officer corps. Corellian personnel of every rank and file would come to this place for their daily alien meals. The Lounge, however, was nearly deserted at this time, save for a couple of Corellian crewmen at the right-hand side of the lounge, conversing quietly with each other, and a lone officer near one of the decorated restaurant tables situated at that same end where the crewmen were seated.

Commander U'Mar led the children into the vast, well-lit Observation Room. Because the children were leaving this century, the Lounge would be their last modern marvel to feast their childlike eyes on. Almost never before had any of the children themselves set eyes on a lounge room that was so brightly lit without blinding human eyes. The fluorescent lighting was so perfect and so balanced; it made the children feel like they had literally entered the heavenly afterlife. Even the _Enterprise_'s Ten-Forward lounge could not seem to compare with this heavenly beauty.

"Take a good long look, humans," said Commander Cha'K in all manner of coolness.

The panel slid open upward, revealing a truly mesmerizing of the large planet Earth. All five children took a breathtaking glimpse of their native planet. Unlike the common topographical view of planet Earth having millions of tiny city lights scattered all across the entire globe that people in the 24th century were so used to seeing with their own eyes, this view of the blue planet was so much different. The children were already finding themselves at a loss for words over this utterly mesmerizing sight. Any dedicated scientist in their times would give almost anything just to feast his eyes on the same sight of the blue planet that the children were already seeing right now.

All over the entire continent were what appeared to be vast acreages of land across all seven official continents, even though some areas of the continents were vastly populated and developed. Much of the entire globe appeared to be underdeveloped on an industrial scale, so the planet, from 24th century standards, would have looked nearly uninhabited. A vast area of the entire planet was bathed in heavenly blue sunlight.

Very soon the continent of North American was in view. The Earth had large vast acres of North American land undeveloped by modern nations. There was lush greenery on the areas of North American on and near the east coast. There were some fair amount of greenery in the Midwestern sections, and at the west coast were desert areas. The entire North American continent, it seemed at this point, was a half-uniformed array of desert tan and lush green.

"Oh, it's…it's so beautiful!" exclaimed Felicity, who was on the verge of crying happy tears. "What do you think…Elizabeth?"

"Aye, 'tis true," agreed Elizabeth, who was totally mesmerized over the scene. "The good Lord made it all," she remarked calmly with great amazement.

"Look at the clouds!" exclaimed little Nan excitedly. "Isn't it beautiful, Lissie?"

"I'll be damned," said Ben.

William kept peering down the window. "Where's Father and Mother?" he asked.

"Down below," said Commander Cha'K. As if _he_ knew precisely where Felicity's Father and Mother were.

"Virginia, William," said Felicity, trying to point William's finger to some little speck on the Eastern Seaboard of North America. "Remember?"

William was peering through the screen to scan the British-American colony of Virginia.

"Are you sure, Lissie?" he asked his eldest sister a mite forlornly.

"Of course," replied Felicity in all manner of vivacious sweetness.

The North American continent was slowly looming to the left. The Eastern seaboard was now in view.

"That's New York over there," said Elizabeth. "Where my father is."

"Your Father lives there?" William asked Elizabeth rather inquisitively.

"Aye," said Elizabeth a little sadly and wistfully at the same time. She still missed her Father. Ever since the authorities in Williamsburg had told Mr. Cole to leave the town, she still missed him, possibly for days on end. Felicity and her siblings were looking forward to seeing both their parents. Elizabeth would have no father to look forward to, at least not until she got to be a little older.

"But…I thought _you_…live in Virginia."

Mr. Cole…was forced to live in New York because the Patriots back home couldn't stand his guts," said Ben, who was answering on behalf of the older girls.

"Sad, isn't it," remarked Commander Cha'K in a half-raspy tone of voice. He sounded pretty dramatic whenever he spoke. "To think… that human bonds have to be severed on account of some whimsical political standings."

"It is," agreed Elizabeth quite reflectively, her avid blue eyes staring glassily at the planet Earth through the transparent aluminum window as she crossed her arms.

"I do hope that whoever was responsible for your decision to go back to your time was taking into account the possibility of living in a world of…how does the Chinese curse put it…"interesting times"."

"Never mind him," said Ben. "I think he's just trying to discourage us."

"But 'tis most interesting to listen to at least some of the officer's reflections…" protested Felicity.

"…About life?" asked Elizabeth, finishing for her best friend.

Felicity turned around in a relaxing manner and leaned near the window in half-sitting position.

"In a manner of speaking," she finished.

The long reflective moment was interrupted when the overhead comm. speakers beeped. "Commander, it's time," said Capt. Kos'A on the P.A.

"Already?" protested Ben in indignation. "This was just our very first glimps of Earth! You can't…"

"And you have already had your first foretaste of earthly paradise," finished Commander Cha'K. "Let's get moving."

Felicity, Elizabeth, Nan, and William heaved heartfelt sighs over having to abandon their first glimpse the planet they would eventually come back to. Ben simply exhaled quietly.

A/N: The name Nuk'A was a direct derivation of Nuka, one of the lion characters from Disney's _The Lion King II: Simba's Pride_.


	66. Chapter 66

_**Star Trek: The Next Generation – Souvenirs**_

**Written By:**_** Commander Cody CC-2224**_

CHAPTER 66

All five children were in the Corellian science vessel's transporter pad. There was no ceremony for the event; for the Corellians, this was just another routine for an event that most humans would almost never take for granted.

"You are sure you have made your choice?" asked Capt. Kos'A.

"We have," said Ben.

"Very well," replied the Corellian ship captain. He shifted his eyes to a small purple-blue circular button with the word "ABORT" in the Corellian language embossed and painted in satin white near Ben's right side of the ship's transporter. "The captain of the _Enterprise_ told me to provide for some sort of…abort system…in case you change your mind," he reminded Ben. At your right side…is the abort button. If you press it, a notification will immediately be sent to the transporter chief, and he will abort the beaming process. During the countdown of fifteen seconds, you will only have ten seconds to make a decision about going back. However, when the countdown reaches five…it will be too late. Just bear that in mind."

"Thank you, Captain," said Ben politely. Ben may have been longing, as he did some few days ago, to go back to 1776, but since he was finding himself having second thoughts about going back to his time forever, he saw no need to act presumptuously at the captain. The captain was providing the children the means to reverse their decision about going back, and if Ben or the other children happened to have a sudden change of mind, they would definitely need that.

"Well…this is farewell," said the captain. "But it's kind of a routine one."

"Bet you're probably so used to saying goodbye to the people you take from time," said Felicity.

"Oh, yes," said Capt. Kos'A. "Quite so, dear."

Capt. Kos'A stepped back from the transporter. After issuing a nod, the Corellian transporter chief pressed a single touch-button on his touch-screen console and the glass doors promptly slid themselves shut. Then for secondary failsafe measures a layer of extra sealant covered the edges, so that the ship would be immune from microbes from planet Earth.

The reason for this advanced warning was because, chronologically speaking, the beaming process had to be precise, both in place and time. The children had to be beamed in exactly the same time and exactly the same place when they were previously beamed by the Corellian Science Vessel _K'Tan_. If the Corellians missed both or even one of their intended beaming targets, both temporal and spatial, they would risk altering Earth's historical timeline pretty significantly. The significance of this alteration would be such that it would attract the unwanted attention of the Temporal Bureau of Investigation, because some people back in the year 1776 might detect a highly suspicious anomaly in their time, and the Temporal Bureau might detect even the slightest chronological change in the universal timeline.

A countdown from the public address system was being recited.

"Fifteen, fourteen, thirteen, twelve, eleven…"

Ben gave Felicity one long glance, which Felicity returned. Then Felicity gave her siblings one long glance, and then shifted her glance to her best friend.

"Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five…"

The children held hands together, not knowing what might be their ultimate fate.

"Four, three, two, one…"

When "Number 1" was announced the children were immediately beamed from the vessel and onto the area where they initially encountered the damaged escape pod in the area where Felicity usually rode Old Bess. They were beamed exactly one second before the children were beamed into the cruiser initially.

When Felicity saw her father, she immediately ran up to him and embraced him. Mr. Merriman seemed to be quite astounded at this seemingly strange eager running up to him. To him, it's as though they've never seen him for a very long time.

"Lissie, what in heaven's name…" said Mr. Merriman.

"We missed you a lot, Father," Felicity said right away in quite a genuinely excited manner. "That's all.

"I see…" said Mr. Merriman pretty skeptically, not understanding very well about how Felicity and her siblings were so excited to see their Father after having spent so many days absent from him.

Elizabeth was beginning a bit envious about not being able to run up to her own father the way her best friend is doing right at this moment.

"Elizabeth, is anything the matter?" Felicity asked her best friend with concern.

"Um…Not really," replied Elizabeth, trying to act and sound casual.

"Elizabeth, really," said Felicity in exasperation. "I can _definitely_ tell that something _really_ is the matter. Do tell, what is it?

"Well…" said Elizabeth a little hesitantly, "'Tis just that…Father isn't here, and I so long to greet him in the very same way you do."

Felicity wrapped her right arm around her best friend.

"Elizabeth, don't fret," said Felicity consolingly. "When your father comes back from New York, perhaps you might be able to tell him about our adventures. Provided, of course, that you swear him to secrecy," she finished with a chuckle.

"'Twill not be for a while, I'm afraid, Lissie," said Elizabeth rather forlornly.

Felicity faced forward. "Come on," she said to her best friend. "Let's go over to my house."

The older girls followed Mr. Merriman on horseback, back to Williamsburg. Felicity and Ben rode Penny, Elizabeth rode Old Bess because she is a gentler mare, and Mr. Merriman rode Blossom.

At midnight the wreckage was beamed off the ground. The entire wreckage was brightly lit and covered with magical particles before it disappeared entirely. What was left in its place was a gaping crater amid the grassy pasture.

A/N: (Example Idea: In the beginning the 5 were beamed away. 1 second later the 5 children from the cruiser are beamed back.)


	67. Chapter 67

_**Star Trek: The Next Generation – Souvenirs**_

**Written By:**_** Commander Cody CC-2224**_

CHAPTER 67

The next day…

April 3, 1776 A.D.

In the family garden Mrs. Merriman talked briefly with Felicity about her adventures with her friends.

"So…how was your day?" Mrs. Merriman asked her eldest daughter.

"Never better," said Felicity quite cheerfully, with a grin like a fabled pixie-princess, and in the manner of a pixie-princess personality.

"I see…" said Mrs. Merriman rather skeptically, as she busied herself to picking the cabbages, while Felicity pretty much did the same.

Felicity waited for anything her mother might say about the strange adventures she and her friends had.

"Your father seems to suspect that something unusual has happened yesterday with you and your friends," she said.

"How do you know of this?" asked Felicity pretty straightly and forthrightly.

"He confided his suspicions to me," said Mrs. Merriman. When I asked what was up with all of you."

"Um…'tis a long story, Mother," Felicity said to her with a laugh.

"Well, then; since it _is_ a long story, as you say, I think you should relate it to us," said Mrs. Merriman. After all, we as parents have a right to know. And I'm sure your friend's mother would be entitled to that right as well. Speaking of which, why don't you ask Elizabeth if she can come over here to tell her part during the evening. And do be sure to have Elizabeth's mother and older sister come over, too, assuming they can."

Felicity heaved a sigh. A few minutes later Ben arrived to escort Felicity to her lessons with Miss Manderly.

* * *

Felicity was on her way to Miss Manderly's, escorted by Ben. Rumors about the seemingly mysterious disappearance of the wreckage spread across the town like wildfire.

"Folks back home can't seem to get out of their curious heads the wreckage that we came across a few days ago," remarked Ben rather casually.

"It's usual to them," said Felicity. "You'd get excited, too, if you heard about one like that."

"I…I guess so," said Ben, trying to put himself in the perspective of an ordinary guy who hadn't heard of a smoldering wreckage in the first place. "But what's rather curious about all this…is…"

"Is what?" asked Felicity.

"That I…and you…and Nan and William and Elizabeth…carry the burden of keeping the entire adventure a secret…from the rest of the prying townsfolk."

"Why is that?" asked Felicity, feeling pretty disappointed that such a grand adventure would be discouraged from being shared among the people she knew even a little in Williamsburg.

"Because…well, as the captain of the _Enterprise_ said before, doing so may change the timeline. Or whatever it's called…in their time."

"But eventually secrets may be revealed," said Felicity.

"Quite right," said Ben. Then a thought occurred to him; in fact it was so intriguing that Ben could not help grinning back at Felicity, trying to squeeze out some enjoyment at looking at Felicity's reaction of suspicion.

"But he didn't say we _should_ not change the timeline…at all costs," he said to her. "This particular adventure of ours may eventually be revealed…but if it is to be revealed…eventually, it will have to be done…a little bit at a time." His eyes rested on rectangular package box containing the photograph of the five children taken back on the _Enterprise_ a few days ago.

Felicity breathed a sigh of relief, knowing that Ben wasn't too particularly absolute over changing the timeline. The pair arrived at Miss Manderly's house, with Felicity toting a rectangular box package.

* * *

Felicity and Elizabeth showed the photographs to Miss Manderly. Annabelle managed to catch a glance of the photographs and starts to have bouts of jealousy.

"I have never seen old Annabelle Bananabelle so jealous in my entire life!" Felicity confided to her best friend with a giggly laugh.

Elizabeth glanced back at her pouting and angry older sister in appreciative marvel.

Felicity simply rolled her eyes in reaction to Annabelle's poutiness. "Anyway, I need to tell you…that my Mother is really…interest with sharing our stories from ususual yesterday. And…" she leaned closer to her friend. "…She's also wondering…if you can bring along your Mother and old Bananabelle" She giggled. "If you can…and if they can make it."

"Um…of…of course…Lissie," said Elizabeth rather hesitantly. She seemed to be agreeable to that, much to Felicity's concealed surprise. "But then…I'm left wondering how to keep Annabelle _calm_…and _quiet_."

Both girls burst into a fit of muffled giggles over the matter, as usual.

* * *

A/N: "After all, we as parents have a right to know." Not that I would usually agree on a personal level, but this is what almost every parent might say, so I decided to have Mrs. Merriman say it. LOL


	68. Chapter 68

_**Star Trek: The Next Generation – Souvenirs**_

**Written By:**_** Commander Cody CC-2224**_

CHAPTER 68

In the Merriman household, by firelight and candlelight, the Merrimans and the Coles were seated together on the parlor sofa, save for Ben, Felicity, Elizabeth, Nan, and William, who were standing at the other end of the parlor, in that respective order.

"And so…our story begins…" began Ben.

"Well, it…sort of began…when we…"

And so the five children recounted their adventures and experiences in the 24th century, on board the Corellian vessel, and on board the _U.S.S. Enterprise_ while the grown-ups listened to their story in skepticism and wonder at the very same time.

**THE END**

* * *

A/N: Note that only Mrs. Cole and Annabelle are present; in _Changes for Felicity _Mr. Cole has just been sent off to the colony of New York because he was told to leave Williamsburg around the middle of March.

* * *

WHEW! That's it, ladies and gents. The epic story crossover of Star Trek and Felicity the American Girl is finally finished! After two years!

Later on I'll be posting extra features at the later "Chapters", like deleted/alternate scene scripts, as well as the answers to some of the intriguing questions I've been posting for my readers!

The saga...is over.


	69. Acknowledgements

_**Star Trek: The Next Generation – Souvenirs**_

Acknowledgements

The Author of this story would like to extend his deeply immense gratitude to those who have contributed very valuable information in the form of insight, personal experiences, and historical accuracy info to the following persons, places, and things that were influential in varying degrees to this fairly momentous story project:

- Gene Roddenberry – he was the originator…sort of, for the Star Trek franchise.

- Valerie Tripp – the originator of Felicity the American girl.

- Pansyphoenix – For her wonderful and dedicated insight into the love live of Felicity and Ben, as well as her most valued advice on making the story plot a lot nicer. And also for being very, very willing to answer whatever questions I had about Felicity the American Girl. And for her very, very encouraging reviews! That kept me motivated to continue the story to the very end! To quote "Lewis Carroll" from _Alice in Wonderland_, "Begin at the beginning, and go on until you come to the end; then stop." Thank you soooo much, Pansyphoenix!

- MackenzieW – For giving some general but much valuable insight as to the aspects of love lives in the colonies, especially to Felicity and Ben. Yup, MackenzieW can be quite an expert.

- Valerie Tripp and the Felicity series books, with which the character Felicity Merriman and others were based directly on, as well as the events in relation to the life of Felicity the American Girl

- Elizabeth McDavid Jones and the three American Girl mystery novels written about Felicity the American Girl, from which some information was directly derived

Give 'em a whoppin' hand, Ladies and Gents. They wholly deserve it.

_"These things don't just happen. They take time, and they take planning."_

- Monsignor Walter Rossi, Rector of the National Shrine of the Immaculate Conception

(An excerpt from an oft-recited formal welcome-n-gratitude speech that is said whenever the National Shrine celebrates a momentous occasion or whenever a Roman Catholic bishop is present and officiating Mass)


	70. Introduction To Deleted Scenes

_**Star Trek: The Next Generation - Souvenirs**_

**_INTRODUCTION TO DELETED SCENES_**

* * *

When I was writing the story, there were many, many concept ideas that were surging straight out of my active mind. My imagination was running amok, and as a result, I started accumulating Microsoft Word documents that were filled with scratch scenes. I decided to categorize the scenes into three categories, which you'll see in the following three sections:

- _The Best Of Deleted Scene Scripts_

_- Short Deleted Scene Scripts_

_- Alternate Story Script Ideas_

The first category sports the best of deleted scene scripts. These are the script outlines for the events that had occured in the story itself. The reason they couldn't be included was because of concerns that it might throw the reader off.

The second category contains short deleted scene scripts, most of which are rendered unfinished by the Author himself. The Author felt that having to include those scenes in the middle of storywriting would mess up the story structure, so he decided to leave them out.

And last, but not least, the third category hosts alternate scenes. They were the concept story ideas by the Author, which never fully materialized because of concerns that the story structure would get messed up.

What you'll encounter in the following three sections are deleted scenes, both additional and alternate.

Happy Exhibition. LOL


	71. The Best Of Deleted Scene Scripts

_**Star Trek: The Next Generation - Souvenirs**_

_**THE BEST OF DELETED SCENE SCRIPTS**_

* * *

Elizabeth, Nan, and William's Holodeck Moment

Data carries a holodeck program containing the Life of Jesus of Nazareth. It is an ultra-realistic, historically accurate holonovel.

Before stepping into the holodeck, Elizabeth, Nan, and William are dressed in era-appropriate 1st century white woolen garments. They also carry universal translators, since a plethora of Aramaic, Latin, Greek and Hebrew dialects will be prevalent. The translators can interpret these dialogues into English.

Nan asks Data if they can go to the part where Baby Jesus is born.

Elizabeth encounters the part where the 12-year-old Jesus is at the Jerusalem temple, preaching to the Jewish scholars. His parents (Joseph & Mary) complain about Him leaving them and freaking them out. As Jesus goes with them, Elizabeth instinctive grabs his arm and greets him. She starts getting embarrassed about her manners and curtsies. Jesus watches Elizabeth make a graceful curtsy using the downward loose robe area of her robe. He thinks it's almost usual to him, which it is.

**Jesus (as a 12-year-old, speaking Aramaic): Where did you learn to do that?**

**Elizabeth: (coyly) My mother taught me.**

**Jesus (in Aramaic) That's rather unusual of her. You're a strange girl.**

**Mary (in Aramaic) **_**Jeshua!**_** Let's go!**

**Jesus (shrugs, in Aramaic) I've got to go. Nice seeing you.**

The 12-year-old Jesus turns his back abruptly and trails behinds his parents. Elizabeth starts to have a crush with Him.

Data and the children go to the part where Jesus is a grown man.

_

* * *

_______________________________

DELETED SCENE for Chaplain Garland and Elizabeth Cole

I was reading Cliffs Notes for _Robinson Crusoe_ the other day, and I came across a part where Robinson Crusoe is afraid to go back to the South Americas, most notably, Brazil, because he fears he will be handed to the Inquisition to be tortured or executed unless he converted to the Roman Catholic religion. And all of a sudden I was inspired to contrive this scene between the mildly rustic Chaplain and Felicity's petite and mildly shy best friend Elizabeth, because that seems to be a common fear especially among the English people.

I was thinking of including this scene somewhere near the end of Chapter 23, or at later point between Chapters 23 and 24, but I had pressing concerns about this scene adding too much unnecessary length in any of said Chapters, and going a little out of topic from the relevant topics Elizabeth and the Chaplain are discussing with each other. Also, I had other concerns about the issue of Elizabeth, at 11 years of age, knowing something or being about the Inquisition in the manner of an intellectual (I kind of left wondering whether Anglican Protestant ministers gave occasional sermons on that matter). Then there was the concern of controversy over the Inquisition between Catholics and non-Catholics, since the Inquisition itself has a pretty bad rep due to the unavoidable rumors and facts of torture and execution that institution itself resorted to in the course through the 16th and 18th centuries.

The Spanish Inquisition Discussed

Elizabeth: I heard from our local parish minister that Papists hand over people like me to the Inquisition. (gets a little skittish, faces the Chaplain rather fearfully) Will that happen to me and my friends, too?

**Garland: (shakes head, smiles) No.**

**Elizabeth: (gulps) What makes you so sure? For all I know…(Voice trails off fearfully. Her eyes are troubled, as well as the rest of her pretty face. She has suspicions that the Chaplain might be deceiving her in a rather sinister manner.)**

Garland: (casually clears throat) Missy, the Inquisition does not exist in this century no more. Besides, the Inquisition, for the most part, is Spain-based, and I ain't no ruttin' Spaniard, as you can plainly see. I'm just a half-Irish, which kind of puts me and my native people all manner of kindhearted, even to nonbelievers and their persecuting counterparts.

Brief silence

Garland: Well, not all Spaniards are all prejudiced and bad-assed. Fact, most of 'em are quite virtuous, though more virtuous than me.

**Elizabeth: But…how will I know you're not lying to me?**

Chaplain Garland clasps his hands over his desk. He sighs.

Garland: Missy, if that were the case, and depending if the Inquisition still existed, I'd be torturin' and bullyin' you to eke out the location of your friends, and if I had them I would be bindin' them up and holdin' em in my personal closet, ready to present you lot as a royal gift to the High Inquisitor.

Chaplain Garland's reply makes Elizabeth shudder in horror.

Garland: But one, who knows the truth behind all these accusations, should be aware that the Inquisition, though not all-perfect like God himself, was far more humane in its treatment of political prisoners than any other institution, if you read world history.

Elizabeth: How so?

**Garland: Well, from what I've read from nonbiased sources, for example, prisoners were, for the most part, well-treated, that even heretics and the like would ask to be transferred to that place, rather than to the local God-awful prisons.**

**Elizabeth: But our Reverend told me that the Inquisition tortured and executed people. Can you imagine that? (gulps fearfully, eyes widen, as if fearful that something like that might happen to her and her friends because they're not "Papist")**

Garland: Yeah. Yeah, it did. Sad, ain't it. (Shakes head a little, out of sympathy) Of course I'd be inclined to say that the number of prisoners executed were fewer than most of the institutions that house political prisoners, but…guess I can't really rub it in on that sensitive matter, since getting executed for your religious beliefs ain't somethin' pleasant to look forward to. Heretics…and especially Jews…tsk, tsk, tsk…

Chaplain Garland finds himself odds in knowing how to answer Elizabeth's queries about the Inquisition without greatly upsetting her feelings, or sounding unsympathetic about the controversial issues about the institution itself, since the Inquisition has a rather negative reputation among the non-Catholics.

Anyway...

Hope you don't feel too offended by those remarks, whether you're a Catholic, a non-Catholic, or a Spaniard. Feel free to post comments or opinions on this matter (but preferably in the manner of a rational intellectual).

* * *

Chaplain Garland Gleans Over a Portrait of Queen Elizabeth I

Chaplain Garland is gazing over a portrait of the English Queen Elizabeth I. Elizabeth is present.

Elizabeth notes that the woman in the mini-portrait is indeed the past Queen of England, identifying her as "Good Queen Bess."

**Garland: Bet you were probably named after her.**

**Elizabeth: (sheepishly) Kind of.**

**Garland: Then again, maybe not.**

**Elizabeth: "Elizabeth" is a common name among us English.**

The Chaplain doesn't agree that much regarding the English giving Queen Elizabeth the affectionate nickname "Good Queen Bess", knowing that she was responsible for the mass persecutions of the English that belonged to his religious affiliation, much less the people of his own nationality (the Irish) though he thinks that someone might be goading her into doing that. Because he's half-Irish, he's rather sensitive about such subjects.

**Elizabeth: But if the Queen is responsible for persecuting your kind, why do you keep looking at her?**

**Garland: She reminds me of my wife.**

**Elizabeth: (wide-eyed) Your **_**wife**_**?**

Chaplain Garland shoves the mini-portrait into the top drawer of his desks and slams it shut, almost startling Elizabeth.

**Garland: (in a frank manner) Yup. Red hair, soft green eyes, all that stuff. Just like your best friend. Unfortunately, she died in a murderous shootout during a rescue operation from the starship where I previously served, the **_**U.S.S. Odyssey**_**. (sighs sadly) The Cardassians shot her in cold blood…with a Varon T disruptor, along with several other members involved in the rescue operation. (shakes head) Nasty, that Varon T. Tortures**

**Elizabeth: (trying to be as tactful as she can) I'm sorry to hear that.**

Chaplain Garland sadly shakes his head.

**Chaplain Garland: Nasty, that Varon T. Puts people in very, very excruciating pain when you shoot some'un with it. Only few survive such terrible ravages of the body. My young wife succumbed to the pain before she died. 'Twas awful. Real awful.**


	72. Short Deleted Scene Scripts

_**Star Trek: The Next Generation - Souvenirs**_

_**SHORT DELETED SCENE SCRIPTS**_

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Prologue

Earth – 1776 A.D.

A cloaked alien vessel hovers over the planet.

Corellian Science Vessel _K'Tan_

Interior – Main Bridge

The Bridge personnel are attempting to find the perfect candidates for human studies.

**Capt. Fass: No. They're perfect. They're the ones.**

END

* * *

The Gravity Issue

Felicity asks whether the conditions on board the _Enterprise_ are the same as on Earth.

Dr. Crusher answers that on the _Enterprise_, the gravity force that they experience around the ship is artificial gravity, pumped around. Dr. Crusher concludes, "It's complicated to explain, but there. You have the basics, even if your childlike minds will race to know."

* * *

Felicity And Ben's Conversation (Unfinished)

BETWEEN CHAPTERS 20 AND 21

Felicity and Ben are strolling through the Deck 8 Corridors, after their discussion with Capt. Picard about the Playboy magazines.

"I suppose you can start on your formal apology to Elizabeth Cole," said Ben.

"Oh, Ben, please stop rubbing it in," pleaded Felicity. "You're making feel guilty again that you have to. I've already been through the pain of it all. Please don't add to it any further."

"Rubbing it in? Lissie, all this talk about me insulting your Tory friend…you're starting to sound very much like a hypocrite when you start touting all this talk about being nice to theirs."

* * *

C-5 Neurotoxin Details

The C-5 Neurotoxin had a similar function as that of the Conium, also known as the Poison Hemlock. The weaponized version of the toxin was largely based on Borg technology, as it used nanotechnology to increase fatality for the victim by gradual blockage of vital respiratory systems within the body, triggering death by gradual suffocation. The nanoprobes were virtually invincible, given their separate force-field power sources, which allowed them to repel any attack from enemy nanoprobes sent to eliminate them and clear the respiratory blockage. The toxin gradually disrupted the workings of the central nervous system through gradual blockage of the neuromuscular junction, which would result in ascending muscular paralysis with eventual paralysis of the respiratory muscles which results in death due to lack of oxygen to the heart and brain. A remedy of artificial ventilation was almost out of the question, as the poison was far too efficient in the gradual buildup in the junction. For an adult the ingestion of more than 60 mg of C-5 could result in fatality, and Chaplain Garland received more than 60 mg.

* * *

Elizabeth Looks at an Antique World War II Marine Plaque

Elizabeth explores Chaplain Garland's quarters.

She sees an old World War II Marine plaque.

"And when he goes to heaven,

To Saint Peter he will tell;

Another Marine reporting, 'Sir!

I've served my time in hell!'"

Elizabeth looks back at her friends, who are present at the entranceway.

* * *

Lt. Corbin Is Assimilated

Somewhere in the Corellian Sector…

The body of the assimilated Lt. Corbin, now a Borg, is floating in space. It turns out that he is actually alive. He has just activated a subtle transponder signal, so that he can be rescued by his fellow drones.


	73. Alternate Story Script Ideas

_**Star Trek: The Next Generation - Souvenirs**_

_**ALTERNATE STORY SCRIPT CONCEPT IDEAS**_

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Self-Destruct Deactivation Scene

Data, Kese, Felicity, and Ben rush through the dimly lit corridors of the _K'Tan_ in order to deactivate the vessel's self-destruct system. Alarm blares of "oo-wa-a-ang, oo-wa-a-ang" blare non-stop, along with blinking blue alarm lights instead of the conventional red. It was just the way the Corellians designed their shipboard alarm systems. They encounter Borg drones on the way, but they manage to get to the engineering section, since this is where Kese will shut down the self-destruct system.

Ben is armed with his M1 Carbine, Felicity with her Thompson, Data with his Remington 700, and Kese with his Corellian disruptor rifle, with his hand-held disruptor gun as his personal sidearm.

Door breach is initiated. Once the charge blows, its spray and pray. (DETAILS OF ELIMINATION OF BORG ENEMIES)

Once the system is cancelled, the four make their way to the vessel's bridge to activate the weapons array.

The four come across a hallway infested with Borg drones.

* * *

Corellian Cruiser Main Turbolift Ascent

Commander Kese pointed the way up with his Corellian battle rifle. Because the turbolift had shut down, the entire group are forced to make their physical ascent all the way from Deck _ to the Main Bridge of this Corellian battle cruiser.

"Up there," said Commander Kese. He shouldered his firearm.

Before the group make their ascent up the main turbolift shaft, however, Commander Kese explained in brief the procedure of the weapons array. (EXPOUND IN DIALOGUE)

Data, Kese, Felicity, and Ben shouldered their weapons and began their climb up the main turbolift shaft. After a few steps, both Felicity and Ben could feel their legs aching, though it was Felicity first to point out that her legs started hurting after so much climbing. Felicity's legs seemed to ache more because she had never done this much climbing., at least not to that particular extent in a shaft several hundreds of feet deep. Also, she was starting to feel scared that she might fall deep, deep down and plummet and die.

"Well, you wanted to come," said Ben teasingly, his voice echoing through the deep of the turbolift shaft. Felicity just made a dirty face at Ben, who was at this point ahead of Felicity.

Not only that, Felicity's hands started sweating. She started sweating, too, due to the nervousness, the tension, and the excite of this grand and glorious adventure of climbing up deep dark turbolift shafts that seemed far more eerie to her than Mr. Nye's tannery1.

But Felicity was not the only one, however, to feel that way. Ben's entire body was sweating out of nervousness, too, and so was Commander Kese. Felicity seemed to envy Data, who seemed to be keeping up the long, hard ladder climb without so much as a thought of the conditions of his body, and without a single complaint either. But androids had that advantage; imperfect humanoid creatures did not.

* * *

Colt M1911

Inadvertently Ben ended up leaving the Colt M1911 behind on the Corellian Cruiser, which he used the M1911 against the Borg drones. Taking notice of the pistol, Felicity picked it up. (NOTE: Felicity gives the pistol back to Ben in a later chapter.)

This scene was too awkward to include, which was why it was left out in the first place.

* * *

Borg Tussle (Alternate Version Details)

As the Borg Queen gives orders to the drones to assimilate the rest of the children, the doors are breached and several Starfleet personnel, led by Worf and armed with replicated WWII weapons and holographic ammo, open fire at the Queen. Suddenly Worf barges in. He uses a replicated BAR to fire at the drones and fires at the Queen as well. Noticing that the Queen is heavily armored, he throws away his BAR and uses his mek'leth (Klingon Sword). Instinctively the children take shelter in the closet.

Seeing that the volley isn't doing any significant damage to the Borg Queen, Worf orders a cease-fire and orders the personnel to leave the room, as he is intent on dealing with her alone. Worf engages the Queen in violent hand-to-hand combat (c.f. Terminator 3, where Terminator and Terminatrix fight in the restroom). The Queen manages to subdue Worf by banging his head against the bathroom wall, thus nearly knocking him out, and stabs him in the rib area with a sharp tool. Then she comes out of the bathroom, ready to assimilate the children.

* * *

Alternate Transwarp Concept Scene Idea

The _K'Vat_ finally engaged maximum transwarp. Upon approaching Earth's coordinates five light year away, the _K'Vat_ prepared for a temporal jump. On reaching Earth at an approximate one light year distance, the _K'Vat_ then released chronometric particles and made a final jump into a temporal vortex.

1 From _Meet Felicity_


	74. The Questionnaire Document

_**Star Trek: The Next Generation - Souvenirs**_

_**QUESTIONNAIRE DOCUMENT**_

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Below are at least some of the questions that were posed for the purposes of giving the reader something to do...and think about...while waiting for the upcoming chapters. The author's hope is that you come across this section after you've at least (thoroughly) thought throught the posed question itself.

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QUESTION:

It seems at random that the first and second verses of the hymn _O God Our Help In Ages Past_ are sung, primarily because singers almost always start the first verse, then the second verse (in numerical order). However, there seems to be more behind the choices of the first verse and second verse being sung by Chaplain Garland and the children in the scene where they are making their long dangerous climb up the turbolift shaft ladder in low-level lighting, and it has something to do with the verses being appropriate for the predicament the group is in. Why do you think those two verses are appropriate for their situation?

ANSWER:

The first verse seems to be appropriate for the situation because it is some sort of praise to the providence of God amidst peril, as in the case of Chaplain Garland, Elizabeth, Nan, and William making their long climb up the turbolift shaft. It is only true (for them) that their "Help in Ages Past" will be their "shelter from the stormy blast" in the sense that Providence will be their protector from "stormy blast" of humanity's battle against the Borg collective. If Chaplain Garland and the children die (through falling from the turbolift shaft ladder), then they have faith that their "Help in Ages Past" will be their eternal home in the heavenly afterlife.

The second verse seems to be appropriate for the situation because they assert in emphasis their faith that the hand of Divine Providence will be with them even to the end, and will never leave them. The Chaplain and the children take refuge in the fact that God's arm alone will be their defense against enemies that threaten to take their lives and their livelihood.


	75. Parallel Imitation Scene Quiz Answers

_**Star Trek: The Next Generation - Souvenirs**_

_**PARALLEL IMITATION SCENES QUIZ ANSWERS**_

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The purpose of posing the question of parallel imitation scenes was to give the reader something to do...and think about...while waiting for the upcoming chapters. Below are the answers to the question of parallel imitation scenes. The author's hope is that you come across this section after you've at least (thoroughly) thought throught the posed question itself.

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Corridor rush scenes – _Enterprise_ and _K'Mar_ – Data, Kese, Felicity and Ben rush via the _K'Mar_ corridor. Chaplain Garland, Elizabeth, Nan, and William rush across the _Enterprise_ corridor.

Chaplain Garland, Elizabeth, Nan, and William take command and control of the _Enterprise_'s Main Bridge. Data, Kese, Felicity, and Ben take command and control of the _K'Mar_'s Main Battle Bridge. Dakota Price takes command of the _Exeter_. This is all for the purpose of utilizing the ship's onboard weapons array.

The turbolift shuts down on Commander Kese during his descent from the Main Battle Bridge to Deck _. He has to make his downward climb to the Deck leading to the Main Shuttlebay. The turbolift shuts down on Chaplain Garland and the children during their descent from deck 10 to the Main Bridge. They have to make their upward climb to the Main Bridge.

The turbolift on board the _K'Mar_ is functional during the ascent from Deck _ to the Main Battle Bridge. The _Enterprise_'s turbolift is functional during the descent from the Main Bridge to Deck 10.

The _Enterprise_ uses tactics and weapons preparation to destroy the two Borg cubes (Picard, Chaplain Garland, and children). The _K'Mar_ uses tactics and sophisticated weapons preparation to destroy the last remaining Borg cube.

Commander Kese hangs on for dear life in the _K'Mar_'s turbolift shaft. Chaplain Garland and Elizabeth hang on for dead life in the _Enterprise_ turbolift shaft.

Borg drones beam on board the Main Bridge of the _Enterprise_. Borg drones beam on board the Main Battle Bridge of the _K'Mar_. This is the part that occurs after each destroys a Borg cube. (The first instance occurs after the_ Enterprise_ destroys the secondary Borg cube. The second instance occurs after the _K'Mar_ destroys the last remaining Borg cube.)


	76. Pronunciation Appendix

_**Star Trek: The Next Generation – Souvenirs**_

_**Pronunciation Appendix For Foreign Alien Race Names**_

This is a pronunciation appendix for the various alien names I came up with, primarily for the Corellians. Each of these names, sorted into three categories, are listed in order of appearance in the story.

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Corellian Science Vessels and Battle Cruisers

K'Tan (Ka 'Tan) (CSV)

K'Mar (Ka 'Mar) (CBC)

K'Vat (Ka 'Vat) (CSV)

Notable Corellian Fleet Officers (_CSV K'Tan_)

Fass (Fähs) (Captain)

Jum'A (Joom' A) (First Officer)

Notable Corellian Fleet Officers (_CBC K'Mar_)

Viss (Vees) (Captain)

Kese (Kees) (First Officer/Bridge Commander)

Notable Corellian Fleet Officers (_CSV K'Vat_)

Kos'A (Kohs' A) (Captain)

U'Mar (Oo' Mar) (First Officer/Bridge Commander)

Nuk'A (Nook' A) (Helmsman)

Cha'K (Chak) (NAV operator)

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A/N: The name "Nuk'A" was from _The Lion King II: Simba's Pride_. LOL

A/N (2): The role of Bridge Commander were supposedly intended as separate roles from those of the First Officer. However, a First Officer could also have the role of Bridge Commander, if deemed necessary by the discretion of the ship's Captain in the Corellian Fleet. This was a footnote that had been neglected to be told to my fellow readers earlier in the story. I use the term "supposedly" because the rank system in the Corellian Fleet has probably not been clarified further...


End file.
